Connecting the Dots
by TheStarsInHerEyes
Summary: Four found Six, they backtracked to Five, then jumped to Seven. The Lorien continue on their quest to find one another and nine together escape from the Mogs, trying to cope with danger, hold on to love, find acceptance, and ultimately a home. And most importantly mess around with superpowers. John/Sarah, Jane/Sam.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is based off of the movie, but it seems like most of the timelines and plot points I referenced online came from the books - so I apologize for any inaccuracies, the 'facts' here are probably a mesh of the movie and book ****version . . . I don't know this world very well so please feel free to point out if I got something wrong.**

**And being based on the movie, anything that happened after the first book is irrelevant for the purposes of this story. **

**Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!**

She sat up in her bed, flicking through the pages of her history textbook. It was well past midnight, but she couldn't sleep, which was nothing new. If she wasn't going to sleep, she figured she may as well do something productive. Even if she couldn't show it off in school, she didn't care, most of the time. She just liked knowing.

A slight smile played across her face as she reached Henry VIII. She had been looking forward to reading about him.

But it was not to be.

She jerked upright, her head snapping towards the window as though pulled by some invisible cord. Five people. Headed this way.

Her heart in her mouth, she looked towards the wall separating their rooms. She doubted he was asleep, but she didn't dare make a noise to alert him. She wasn't sure if they were close enough to hear yet, but she wasn't chancing it. Keeping one eye on the window, she slipped out of bed, heading for the door.

She wanted to tell herself that it wasn't what she thought it was. She wanted to tell herself it was nothing. She wanted to tell herself that they could go on living here, a practically normal life. She wanted to tell herself that tonight was not the night she would have to face her greatest fear.

But she would have known she was lying.

The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, cold and hard. It took a conscious effort to creep quietly, when every nerve in her body, her every instinct, was screaming at her to run faster than she ever had before.

She slowly creaked open the door, daring not even to breathe for fear of making a sound, It was of the upmost importance that they stole the element of surprise. They would need every advantage they could get.

They were getting closer. They were trying very hard to be silent, and seemed to be succeeding at it. They didn't feel like Mogadorians – but then again, she couldn't know for sure, having never felt one before. But they definitely didn't feel human. She had gotten lazy, lulled into a false sense of security, thinking she was protected, buffered in the middle of the line up.

Another door – the knob was so cold it practically burned, but in a mere second it had flamed up to match her hand temperature. But now the cold had seeped through her fingers, and it felt as though into the pit of her stomach. She turned it slowly, again holding her breath, as though somehow that could stop the door from creaking.

He was already at the door as she pulled it open – hard as she'd tried, apparently she hadn't been quiet enough to go completely undetected. His eyes were two bright lights in the dark room and they held hers like an anchor.

"What is it?" He mouthed, so quietly that only a whisper fell out and drifted across the room.

"Five are coming." She whispered.

* * *

"Are you sure we should be doing this?"

"You didn't like the way we did it last time, you don't like the way we're doing it this time, what will it take to make you happy?"

"No, I'm just saying, don't you think it would be better to wait until morning?"

"No."

John sighed, rolling his head back in an attempt to ease his neck muscles. "Care to explain that?" He asked. He was a bit surprised when she actually gave an answer; Six rarely took the time to explain her reasoning. But maybe she was getting used to John.

"We can't waste any time. We don't even know for sure if this is them, and we don't want the whole world seeing us checking up on them."

"Yeah, but sneaking up on them at night isn't exactly the most friendly behavior. We want them to trust us. How do we know this way his protector isn't going to think we're Morgadorians and kill us all?"

"Her." Six corrected. John blinked. "_Her _protector." She repeated.

"You can't know it's going to be a girl."

"Oh it is. It has to be. We get any more testosterone around here and I'm going to go insane."

With that, Six decided that the conversation was over and crept up closer to the building.

"I can go in through the window." Tyler said, eyeing he distance.

"Just make sure you get the right one." Sam cautioned, looking at all the identical squares, every one of them pitch black.

"Sam, you stay here with Bernie." Six ordered.

"What? Why do I always have to stay behind." Sam protested.

"Because you're the only human."

"Look," Sam tried to reason. "I'm a part of this team, okay? You can't just keep on leaving me behind as soon as things start getting interesting!"

"Shh!" Six hissed at him. "Fine, go up and get yourself killed for all I care. Just don't give us away! Tyler, can you levitate him up too?"

In answer, Sam began to float several feet above the ground, slowly drifting up the side of the building a bit below Tyler. Six observed then, nodding in satisfaction. She turned to John and Patrick. "Our turn."

* * *

She stood with her back pressed against the wall, keeping one eye on Daniel and the other on the window.

"Three." She mouthed to him.

He nodded with his eyes, staring steadily at the door.

"Two." She mouthed again.

Every muscle in her body was taught, the tension coursing through every nerve.

"One."

The door suddenly didn't exist anymore. It was just gone, in a cloud of dust. Three figures entered, and she backed away, still keeping an eye on the window where two other figures had appeared. At least she was making sure they couldn't get in, yet.

She and Daniel were back to back now. The three just stood there, looking at them. They didn't look like Mogadorians. They looked normal. But most people did at first glance. And they sure didn't feel human. The one outside was pushing on the window in frustration, but even he was silent. No one made a move.

Finally, the blond boy spoke. "Are you Number Seven?"

She turned around at his voice, and looked at him for a minute. Then she lowered her hand, and the two boys outside tumbled through the window.

Daniel whipped around to face the new intruders, looking down at her in alarm.

"It's okay." She said, reaching up and lightly touching his arm. He looked back down at her, and slowly lowered the knife. "They're not Mogadorians."

She turned back to the boy who had first spoken and took a step forward. "I am Number Seven." She said firmly.

The boy nodded, his face relaxing. A look of relief passed over the girl's face. But the large man's face remained impassive.

"I am Number Four." Said the blond haired boy stepping forward.

"I am Number Six." Said the girl, taking a step forward as well.

"And I'm Number Five." Said a voice, and she turned to see the taller of the two boys had spoken.

She nodded, her eyes flicking from one to the other. One look at the tall man clearly said he was a protector, but the other boy –

"What about the human?" She asked.

"I'm Sam." The boy said quickly, raising a hand in greeting.

"He knows." Number Four said. "And he's helping us." Six rolled her eyes at this, but kept quiet.

Instead, Six moved on to the next topic of business. "We're here because we're banding together. All the Lorien, to fight the Mogadorians instead of being hunted one by one until we all die."

She didn't feel capable of doing much more than staring at her. It had just been a normal night all but a few minutes ago . . . and now a call to save the world?

"Why now?" she asked.

"Why not?" Six responded. It was a fair point.

"Isn't it more dangerous though?" She asked quietly. "Being all together? Especially with Four?" Her eyes flickered towards the boy in question. "If they find us, they could just kill us all off one by one and be done with it. It might just kill us all faster."

"It's a risk." Six said, nodding.

"But it's one we have to take." Four said.

"If we didn't, then even if they never found us," Six continued, "Then we'd still just die here eventually of old age. We have to face them at some point. I think sooner is better than later."

After a pause, Four asked "So what do you think? Will you join us?"

She looked up at Daniel. He looked back down at her. She turned to the others. "Could we have a minute?" She asked.

"Sure." Said Four, and he turned away, walking over to the other two boys and beginning a low conversation. Six and the other man followed suit.

She walked with Daniel over to the other side of the room.

"What do you think?" She asked.

"You're sure they're who they say they are?"

"Of course."

"It's dangerous." He said, folding his arms.

"Yes," She said, inclining her head slightly. "But what about what they're doing?"

"What do you think of it?"

"I think . . . it's kind of smart. It might be a good idea."

He looked at her and shifted his weight to his other foot. "What did you get from them?"

"They're Lorien. Except for the one human, that is. They seem to have good intentions, and to be trustworthy."

Daniel nodded. "You want to do it?"

"I think we'll regret if we don't."

"We might regret it if we do."

"We'll only regret it if we do and we die. And we aren't going to let that happen." Daniel nodded in concession to this argument. "We don't have much to lose. And, I think they're right. I think it's time we've done something."

Daniel nodded some more. "You're positive?" He asked.

"Absolutely."

"Then we join them."

* * *

They sat in a circle on the floor, all facing one another.

"I'm John." Number Four said to Seven and Daniel. "Do you have a name you go by, instead of Seven?"

"Ella." She replied. "And this is Daniel."

"That's who I'd like to know about." Said Six, her chin in her hand. "He's your cepan, right?"

"Yes." Daniel answered.

"How is that possible? He's way too young. You can't have been much older than us when you came here."

Ella and Daniel glanced at one another.

"It's a long story." Ella said after a moment, looking at Daniel.

"I wasn't originally her protector." Daniel spoke up. "Hers died a little more than a year ago. I was Number One's."

A ripple seemed to go through the circle as that stament registered with each person.

"You all know he died." Daniel continued stoically. "But before he did, he tried something that would make me stronger. But it didn't work. One of its effects was keeping me from aging. We only managed to reverse it about two years ago."

"You still must have been pretty young though then when you left Lorien."

"Yes." Daniel answered shortly.

Before anyone could ask another question, Ella changed the subject.

"So, are you," She asked, indicating the definite oldest member of the group, "A protector too?"

"Yes." He replied. "My name is Patrick. I am Tyler's protector."

Across the circle, Tyler nodded. "Five." He said. "But you can call me Tyler."

"Hey, I just noticed something. Now that we've found Number Seven, there are seven of us here!" Sam exclaimed.

Ella nodded politely, John rolled his eyes, and Tyler looked at him strangely.

"Sam, what has that got to do with anything?" Six snapped.

Sam looked abashed. "I dunno . . ." He said. "It was just kind of cool. I mean, who knows, it might have some kind of meaning . . ." He faded under Six's glare.

There was a short silence, which Tyler broke with "What about legacies?"

"Yeah," said John, turning to Ella. "You obviously have some – thing, with the window –"

"I can create force fields." She answered, nodding.

"Cool." Six said in approval. "Anything else?"

"I have heightened senses."

At this, Six raised an eyebrow. "We kind of all have heightened senses." She pointed out.

"Yes, but she has really heightened senses." Daniel said.

"I have exceptional hearing, smell, etc. I have telescopic and microscopic vision. I also have x-ray and night vision. And, I guess because of that, I can sense where people are, what they're doing, and can usually tell simple stuff, like if they're lying or not."

"Wow." Sam said, nodding.

Six cocked her head. "What color underwear am I wearing?" She asked critically.

Ella stared at her, unamused. "They have binky the clown on them." She replied after a moment.

Sam let out a loud snort of laughter. Six glared at him, then turned back to Ella, crinkling her nose. "I am not."

"Care to prove me wrong?" Ella asked.

"They wish." Six replied, throwing another glare at Sam.

"This one asked me the same question when he first met me." Ella said, dropping the frosty air that she had taken up with Six's inquiry and relaxing a bit, jerking her head towards Daniel.

He cast a smile towards her, not appearing to be too ashamed of the fact.

"Is there – is there any other way you could give us an example?" John asked.

Ella surveyed the circle for a moment. "None of you have showered in the past week and a half." She said. "Sam two and a half."

Sam sniffed himself self-consciously. The rest nodded. It was an entirely accurate statement.

"What about your legacies?" Ella asked.

"I control the elements." Six answered. "And invisibility."

"Telekinetic." John said. "And lumen."

"Flight. And I can breathe underwater." Tyler said.

Ella nodded. "Then which one of you made my door disappear?" She asked, eyeing them critically.

Six lifted her hand. "That would be me."

"How?"

"Earth element. Crumbled it into dirt and dust."

"Oh." Ella said nodding. She looked thoughtful. "Cool."

"I'd like to know more about you." Daniel said, turning to Sam. Ella fixed her gaze on him as well. "What are you doing with them – us?"

"Well," Sam said, shifting a bit nervously. "It started with my dad. He was really into aliens and stuff like that – extraterrestrials, UFOs, all that stuff. He called himself an anthropologist, but that was what he was really interested in, he liked studying all that stuff."

"Henri – my protector – was looking at his dad's work." John put in. "He had to have been on to something."

"But then he disappeared." Sam said. "Somewhere in Mexico. Just gone. He was looking for something."

Ella and Daniel were quiet for a moment.

"So, yeah." Sam finished awkwardly. "I know I don't have any powers or anything, but I can still help you guys out. I promise I won't slow you down, and I am definitely not Mogadorian."

Ella nodded, and so did Daniel.

"How long have you been doing – this?" Daniel asked.

"About three months." Six answered, glancing at John, who nodded. "That's when I met John."

"More like hunted me down." John said.

"Lucky I did, I saved your ass." Six retorted, and John kept quiet. "My protector had died. I decided that it was time the six of us had gotten together."

"So it was you who started it?" Daniel asked.

"Yes." Six answered promptly. "I looked for John first, since he was next in line. Found him in Ohio. We fought some Mogadorians, picked up Sam, and figured out where the rest of you were."

"How?" Daniel interrupted. "We've been really careful about covering up out trail."

"It wasn't any trail you left," John explained. "We used these rocks."

"Rocks?" Ella asked, after no one moved to explain.

"Yeah. There were these rocks, and when me and Six put them together, we just could tell where you guys were – like we could sense it."

"Can I see them?"

"Well, they kind of disintegrated . . ."

"The rocks aren't important." Six cut in impatiently. "What matters is we knew where you were, generally, and set out to find you. We left for Berlin for Five. Got him and Patrick, then flew back to D.C. to get you."

"Okay. So what's your plan now?" Ella asked.

"Find Number Eight." Six answered.

"Do you know where they are?" Daniel asked.

"Beijing."

"Looks like we've got a long trip then." Ella observed.

"We'll catch a flight in the morning." Patrick said. "Until then – may we sleep here?"

"Of course." Ella answered immediately.

"Thank you." Patrick said.

"Hey, Tyler." John said. "Could you levitate Bernie up?"

Tyler nodded, walking over to the window. But there was no need. A pigeon had alighted on the sill, hopped inside, and promptly changed back into beagle form.

Ella and Daniel stared at it.

"Uh, right." John said. "We have a chimera travelling with us too."

"Anything else we should know about?" Ella asked.

"Oh yeah, and we have a couple of Mogadorian pals hanging around outside, hope that won't be a problem." Sam said.

Daniel whipped around to face him, glaring daggers.

"Just joking . . ." Sam said quickly, backing away with his hands up. "Only a joke."

* * *

It was strange, more than a little disconcerting, to suddenly have so many people in their tiny apartment. She was so used to it just being her and Daniel, even before him it had just been her and Helena.

Ella had bullied Six into taking the bed. She hadn't needed much persuasion, it was only her pride that obligated her to put up resistance. Six, Tyler, and Patrick had gone into the bedroom, and the rest of them were sleeping in here. There was no furniture; although they had been living here for some time now, it still didn't feel permanent – and besides, why bother wasting the money on it? They would have to leave it behind when they moved on anyway. While this meant that there was plenty of space for everyone, there was very little comfort. There weren't quite enough blankets and pillows to go around, but they made do.

Daniel handed her a blanket. It felt a little strange, sleeping only few feet away from him, but what was even stranger was sleeping only a few feet more away from almost complete strangers. Right now, they both needed a familiar face nearby, both needed to be within reaching distant of an anchor in this crazy whirlwind they had been thrust into.

It would be better in the morning, once she had had a chance to get used to it.

She pushed the blanket back towards Daniel. "I already have one." She told him.

"I don't need mine." He replied, pushing it back.

"Don't be stupid, of course you do."

"I'm comfortable this way."

"You'd be more comfortable with a blanket. I don't need two."

"Just take it."

"I don't need it. You keep it."

Ella laid down and turned over to face the wall, closing her eyes and cutting off his next argument.

"I know you can't fall asleep that fast." He said. She ignored him.

He sighed. When it came to stubbornness, she won every time. A few minutes later, he laid down in an attempt to go to sleep as well. The blanket, carefully folded, lay between them, all through the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Ella woke up groggily and forced herself to open her eyes. There was no time for sleeping in today. She sat up, fighting the dizziness in her head and taking a deep breath. She glanced across the room. Sunlight was filtering in through the window, so it couldn't be too early, despite how her body was protesting.

John and Sam both appeared to be sound asleep, completely conked out. Their dog – pigeon – chimera – whatever it was, merely cocked an eye open at her, then turned its head, closing it again. But Daniel was awake, lying with his hands folded under his head, staring at the ceiling. On a normal day, he went jogging before she even got up, but apparently he had opted not to today.

"Good morning." She said quietly, slowly standing up.

"Morning." He said in reply. Ella took a few steps towards the door, then hesitated, turning back around.

"Are you just going to stay there?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll be out in a minute." He answered.

"Okay." She said nodding, and left for the kitchen.

Six was already up, rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Good morning." She greeted Ella as she walked in.

"Hey." Ella replied, walking over and taking a bowl out of a cabinet.

"So I'm just kind of taking your food," Six said, gesturing to the refrigerator. "Hope you don't mind." she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Oh, not at all." Ella replied. "Help yourself. We might as well get rid of it all now anyway, since we're leaving."

"Very true." Six replied, finally settling on an orange. She then proceeded to the toaster.

"Another thing you're welcome to . . . all of you," Ella began tentatively. "Is the shower."

Six glanced up at her. "Do we smell that bad?" Ella opened her mouth to protest, but Six said "You don't need to answer, I know we do. Thanks, it'll be nice to take a hot shower." She paused for a minute, taking a long sip of coffee. Ella wondered where on earth she had gotten that from. "Are the others up yet?"

"Daniel is." Ella answered, taking Six's place at the refrigerator. She took out two glasses and began to pour out orange juice. "But the other two aren't." She glanced over at Six. "Orange juice?"

"No thanks." Six answered.

"What about Tyler and Patrick?"

"They're up. They're just still in the room, warming up, you know, stretching and stuff."

Ella nodded. She did know. She personally preferred yoga, although with school she far more often did it in the afternoons than the mornings.

"So I've been thinking," Six said, taking a seat on the table. "You said you can sense people, or something like that, right?"

"Yes." Ella answered, turning around to face her and leaning back against the counter.

"So, could you tell us where Number Eight is, right now?"

Ella shook her head, and Six's face dropped. "Oh well." She said.

"It's pretty hard if I've never met the person." Ella explained. "Unless they're really close by."

"So you wouldn't be able to sense where the Mogs are right now or anything?"

"No. I can only tell if they're nearby, because they're obviously not human."

"Well, we're not human either. Couldn't you sense that?"

"I could. But not when I don't have any idea where she is or even who she is."

"Technically though, you did meet her, when we all came to Earth together?"

"I guess technically. But I don't remember her. I think that's the important part."

"Oh." Six said, her face dropping slightly. "Well, it would have been nice."

"Don't you already know where Eight is, though?" Ella asked. "Didn't you say she was in Beijing?"

"Yeah." Six answered, finally finishing peeling her orange and, dropping the rind on the table, beginning to eat. "Which is good. But, we don't really know anything more than that. We just got a general area from the stones, not a specific location. She could be anywhere in Beijing. And besides, it's been a couple months now, they could have moved."

"Maybe when we're in Beijing I'll be able to tell where she is. When we're closer, and I have a smaller area to search in, it should be easier to spot the alien life-form." Ella suggested. "You seemed to find me okay though."

"Yeah, well, last night was our third try. D.C. is kind of a big city, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Perfect for hiding in." Ella responded with a smile.

"So, are you going to be ready to leave today?" Six asked, eyeing her.

"Yes." Ella answered. "In case you didn't notice, we don't exactly have a lot of stuff to pack."

"That's good." Six said, smiling. "But what about the city? You don't have any, baggage, you're leaving behind?"

Ella's smile fell a little, but she shook her head slowly. "I like it here." She admitted. "But, you can't really let yourself ever get too attached to a place, you know?" Six nodded. "I'll send out a message to my friends saying that I'm leaving and then get rid of my phone. Done."

Six nodded again. "Good." She said. "It's good to move on."

"Yeah." Ella said, nodding. "So, I guess you must have moved around a lot too."

"Naturally." Six said smiling.

"Did you live in Australia for a while?" Ella asked, guessing from the accent.

"For the first bunch of years, yes. Moved around quite a bit after that. And then lately, of course, I've been constantly moving."

Daniel walked into the kitchen, hair tousled, breaking the conversation.

"Good, you're up." Six said, standing up. "I'll go wake up those other lazy . . ." She trailed off, muttering various other insults as she marched towards the door.

Daniel and Ella gazed after her, hearing muffled thumps from the room next door. Daniel raised an eyebrow and Ella grinned. She handed him the second glass she had poured, he took it, and drained it.

"So it looks like we're going to China today." Ella said, taking a seat at the table.

"Yeah." Daniel said. "You've never been there before, have you?"

"No. You haven't either, right?"

"Right."

"I've always wanted to see the Forbidden City."

"Isn't it forbidden?"

"Only for humans."

Daniel smiled slightly. "I don't know if we'll have much time for sight-seeing." He warned teasingly.

"There's always time for sight seeing." Ella responded.

Daniel nodded. He turned, dropping his glass in the sink and picked up his jacket, pulling it on as he said "I'm going to go tell the landlord that we'll be leaving."

"Okay." Ella said, and he walked out the door.

* * *

Daniel walked back inside, not bothering to take his coat back off. They would be leaving soon enough anyways. He glanced into the adjacent room and saw Ella, packing up some things with the other Garde. He passed by and went into the other room.

There was Patrick, sitting on the bed, slowly and carefully polishing his knife. Sam was there too, typing furiously on a computer.

"Can I have a word?" Daniel asked to Patrick.

Patrick looked up at him and nodded.

Daniel didn't speak, looking over at Sam. After a moment or two of silence, Sam looked up. Realizing that the other two were staring at him, he quickly got up. "I'll just – go into the other room - better reception – quieter – see ya." He said hurriedly, gathering up his laptop and scuttling into the kitchen.

Daniel took a seat and pulled out his own knife, beginning to polish it as well.

"What did you want to say?" Patrick asked in a deep voice.

"I don't think anyone else in this group would give me a straight answer."

The edge of Patrick's mouth quirked. "That Six is pretty good at giving straight answers."

"Not as good when it works against her. But I need to know. How many times have Mogadorians attacked this group?"

Patrick looked steadily at him. "Since we've joined, only once. There was only one of them, and we defeated it easily."

"Only one?" Daniel asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yes, we found it strange too, considering their normal patterns. It was perhaps a fluke, or a rouge, or a –"

"A scout." Daniel finished.

"Precisely." Patrick said, nodding. "As for before. Well, they claim that there was only once, when Six joined with John and Sam. But I am doubtful as to whether they are telling the truth. It would not provide much incentive for us to join if we knew they were being constantly attacked."

"Exactly why I asked you."

"It is more comfortable having another cepan." Patrick said after a moment. Daniel nodded. They were both silent for a few minutes, concentrating on their knives. "I believe I remember you." Patrick said, breaking the silence. "You were the youngest of us all. Just graduated."

Daniel nodded. "Yes. I hadn't had any experience yet. But, they didn't exactly have many options."

Patrick nodded slowly, mirroring Daniel, as they were both lost in their memories of that day. The chaos, the mission they had had seconds to accept, which had both saved and exiled them in a single stroke. "Whoever was there at the time." Daniel said, his voice coming as though from miles away.

Breaking reverie, Patrick looked up. "You have not changed much since that time."

Daniel nodded. "I still do not have much experience. But I have learned."

"I am sure you have." Patrick replied. "And you are far from inexperienced." He looked at Daniel, waiting for him to meet his eyes. "It is not your fault that he died."

Daniel broke eye contact, looking at the ground. "He died too soon." He said in a muted voice.

"All do." Patrick said. "It is not your fault that you have lived while he has died."

"I was supposed to die." Daniel responded. "Everyone assumed I was dead with One."

"That may be true. But that does not change anything."

"Why not?"

"It is far better for you to live. Now you can help the others. Have a second chance. You have provided a protector for Seven."

"Yes." Daniel said, staring back down at the ground. "But that does not take away the guilt."

"Nothing ever does." Patrick said. "But we must learn to live with it, to move on, and be strong in spite of it."

"I will." Daniel responded, looking up. Patrick nodded.

"I do not know your past." He said, standing up. "But I do not need to. It is from your future actions that you will form yourself."

* * *

Daniel watched as Patrick walked out the door, a smile in his eyes. He had a feeling that he and Patrick were going to get along fine. It was good to know that he wouldn't judge based on the past, that it was meaningless in someone's eyes.

But at the same time, the past held importance, and he couldn't deny that no matter how hard he tried. That was what made Ella so important, one of the many things. She wasn't just a member of the Garde. She was the only being alive who knew his whole past, as he was to her. She was the only one who he had told the whole story to.

_He was young, and he was scared. Younger and scareder than he cared to admit. He had never been in charge of anything before. Fresh out of school, he hadn't even had a chance to serve as a real bodyguard on his own. How was he supposed to be a protector of a member of the Garde? _

_ Not just any member either. One of the nine Garde left. Number One. The first one they would be coming for. No time to prepare. They were coming now. No time to learn the land, hell, the whole planet. Sure, he had learned about Earth, everyone had, it was one of their sister planets. But he'd only seen it in pictures before. Now it was his home._

_ But it wasn't his home. This couldn't be his home. Lorien was his home. Lorien was his family, his friends, his work, his . . . his life. But no. He couldn't think of that, he couldn't be consumed by his grief. Lorien couldn't afford that now. Number One couldn't afford that now. _

_ Earth took some time to get used to, but adapting was not the priority now. The priority was survival. They kept moving. They didn't know how soon the Mogadorians would come, but they did know that when they did, they would be the first target. Sometimes he wondered if that was why he had been sent with Number One, because they knew that he would likely fail to protect him, but that if he did, it was no big deal. They still had eight other chances. Sometimes he wondered if this had occurred to One as well. He thought so. _

_ One was a good kid, a bright kid. About eleven, he was old enough to know what was going on, but he was also smart enough to do what had to be done. Although they hadn't known one another before that day, running for their lives on a strange, alien planet brought them closer. They became like brothers, rather than the father-son, mother-daughter relationship the others seemed to have. They were both scared little kids, looking to one another for reassurance. _

_ And they both knew they had been dealt the short end of the stick. They knew they had targets painted on their backs, and were ill-equipped to deal with what was coming for them. _

_ So they tried to even the odds. _

_ One had a grasp on his first legacy, and had been learning magic in school for some time. He thought he could perform a spell that would make Daniel better – stronger, faster, his skin impenetrable, his fists like iron, and best of all, untraceable. He tried. Daniel didn't know what happened, he didn't claim to know anything of magic. He didn't know what went wrong. All he knew was what had happened to him, and even that was only a shaky understanding. _

_ He didn't remember anything after that day. There had been bright light, One's voice, he had felt as though electric shocks were going through his body, and then – nothing. _

_ Nearly eight years later he started living again. He woke up, came to, whatever it could be called. He just got up, alone near the shore of New York. Eight years had gone by. One was dead. He knew. But he was still alive. More than alive, he was the same. Exactly the same. _

_ A while later, he realized something else. He wasn't aging. His hair didn't grow, neither did his nails. He didn't get any taller. Nothing about him changed. _

_ Perhaps on Lorien, this could have been easily rectified. But he was stuck on Earth, with only a handful of people who would even consider him sane. He set off to find those people._

_ The nearest were living in Quebec. There he found Seven and her protector, Helena, explained to them what had happened. They didn't know how to help him. Nobody did. He continued to check in with them, as he searched for some way to really live again. _

_ He never found his answer. But one day, about two years ago, he had simply felt it. The seemingly frozen feeling left. He was able to grow again. When he got a haircut, it was not forever. His past had finally let him go, he was free to grow, to move on. _

_ One day Seven's protector didn't come back. It was unthinkable to leave Ella on her own. He stepped into her protector's place, and prayed that history would not repeat itself. _


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you ready?" Patrick asked, shouldering his own bag.

"Yes." Ella said, nodding. She turned back for one last look at the apartment that had been her home for the past two years. Time to say goodbye.

They began their trek towards the metro. "We'll get out of D.C. first." Six said, her breath freezing in icy clouds before her. "Then try to get as far north as we can. At least Pittsburg, hopefully New York."

"To throw the Mogs off our tail?" Daniel guessed. Six nodded, bestowing a smile on his understanding.

"Exactly." She replied. "We don't want to take a plane to Beijing straight from here, it would be a dead giveaway."

"Six," John hedged. "I know we have to be paranoid . . . but don't you think this is a bit extreme? I mean, come on, couldn't we just take a connecter flight or something?"

"No." Everyone responded at once. John sighed, mumbling something to himself and hunching his shoulders against the wind.

The metro was crowded, as usual. After a little less than an hour of the full to bursting cars, they spilled out mid-Maryland.

"Are we walking the whole way?" Sam asked, a hint of a complaint in his voice.

"Still a while yet." Patrick answered. "We can get a car or something once we get farther away."

As the only human among them, Sam was taking it the hardest, but he just set his mouth and nodded.

They walked for mile upon mile, the tress and towns fading by, blurring into the past and future. Gradually, Ella fell into step with Tyler, and the two slipped into conversation together.

"So you were in Berlin before this?"

"Yes, around there. Teltow, actually."

"Had you been there long?"

"About five months."

"That's not too bad."

"No."

"I passed through Germany once, but I've never lived there." Ella said, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Did you like it?'

"It was alright. Not my favorite, but not the worst either. I prefer the warmer climates."

"Oh, I'm the opposite. Winter's my favorite season."

"You must be happy then." Tyler said, with a rueful look.

"It's better than the sweltering sun." She replied with a smile, glancing up at the sky. "So, which was the worst?"

"Russia. Definitely."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"Why?"

"I was only ten, and there were no other kids around. I was so lonely all the time. And you couldn't exactly just go outside and play."

"I hope you didn't stay there long."

"No, only a few months. But that was more than long enough." He looked over at Ella. "What about you? How long have you been here?"

"About a year." She answered. "I like it here."

"I'm sorry we're taking you away."

"Oh no, it's not your fault Tyler." She glanced over at him. "So, if you don't mind me asking, - Tyler, is that a name Patrick gave you, or . . ." She trailed off.

"I picked it when we moved to Germany." He said. "I guess it looks like I'm keeping this one now. It's a good enough name, not sure if it would have been the one I'd have picked if I knew it was going to be permanent though."

"What would you have picked?"

"I don't know . . . I don't think I can anymore, anyways. I'm Tyler now. You can't change a name once you have it."

"I guess not."

"Did your protector pick your name?" He asked.

"Not exactly." Ella said. "I've always been Ella. But every time we'd go somewhere new, we'd pick a new variation of it. Isabella, Daniella, you get the point. Here I was Arabella."

"Doesn't that make you easier to trace though?"

"Maybe slightly . . . but there are so many names with Ella, you'd have to really be looking for it to see the pattern. And anyways, it gave me a real name. I'm glad she did it."

They were quiet for a moment. Then Tyler asked "What happened to her?"

Ella looked up at the cold, clear sky. "She didn't come back one day." She answered simply. She didn't elaborate, and Tyler didn't ask any more questions.

"I never realized," He said instead, "How lucky I was. I just kind of assumed that every number got a protector. But none of you that I've met so far have had yours. They've all died. I've taken Patrick for granted."

"I'm sure you haven't." Ella said.

"I have." Tyler stated benignly. "I just thought that he'd always be around, to take care of me, to protect me, to help me, you know. I thought it was a given." He looked across the group, he gaze grazing each of them in turn. "But now I know it isn't." He finished, turning back to Ella.

She nodded, casting her gaze into the distance. They continued walking, their footsteps reverberating against the ground, slowly trekking a path further and further down the road.

"This looks good." Six said decisively, surveying the campground. Patrick nodded his assent, along with the others.

They avoided the crowded camp areas filled with trailers, heading instead for the most deserted campsite they could find. Finally arriving at a dirt circle, surround by trees but devoid of people, they, gratefully, sat down. Ella gazed up at the mosaic ceiling of tree leaves. This would be new. She'd never slept out in the open before, at least not that she could remember. It hadn't been something she'd particularly wanted to do either, but there was no point in complaining now. Better a slightly uncomfortable night than the Mogs.

"I don't suppose that there's a chance any of you have a fire-starting power, is there?" Sam asked, rubbing his hands together and eyeing Six. She glared at him.

"You know full well that I do." She snapped back at him. "But I'm not going to use it now, because burning down the entire forest would be a bad thing, let alone a dead giveaway. Besides, some of us aren't even fireproof." Sam looked down at his shoes. Six rummaged through her bag and came up with some hot pads, tossing one to Sam. He flinched as it soared towards him, but gave a smile after he caught it.

"Thanks." He said to Six, who grunted in reply.

"I'm going to go get some food." Patrick said, standing up.

"Could you get some cheese fries?" John asked.

"I'll see."

"Thanks."

"I'll come too." Tyler said, getting up as well. They walked off, hardly making a sound as they slipped through the trees and out of sight.

"So, we're seriously sleeping out here?" Sam asked sidelong to John.

"It's called camping." John replied, smiling. Sam did not look amused.

"What, not even a motel?"

"Why, you got the money to pay for it?" John asked.

"Hey, you know how much money I've used up on this stunt?" Sam demanded, getting heated up.

"Hey, hey, calm down." John said, putting up his hands. "I know. That's why we have to be careful. We're saving up, still have to rent the car, buy the plane tickets. . ."

"Yeah." Sam said, disgruntled. "But it's still cold . . ."

Daniel walked over to them, bearing the bag filled with hot packets. "Here." He said, handing one to John, who took it gratefully. "Would you like another one?" He asked Sam.

"Yeah. thanks." Sam said, taking it and attempting to shove it inside his shoe.

"I'm really glad we've got you around here now man." John said, looking up at Daniel. "It's good to have someone really trained around, especially now, with, you know." He said, tilting his head back and forth towards Ella. Daniel just stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, she's not exactly a fighter, is she, and now we've got to protect her too." John explained.

"Well, aren't all you Lorien super good fighters anyway." Sam put in, noting Daniel's darkening demeanor.

"Well, yeah," John said, turning to Sam. "But I mean, look at her. She wouldn't be able to hold up in a fight."

"Dude," Sam said, lowering his voice. "She can probably hear you. She has super hearing, remember?"

"Yeah, sure." John said, rolling his eyes. In his opinion, she just wanted to have two legacies like everybody else. He couldn't say he blamed her, he had been extremely relieved when he had developed telekinesis. "She says she does."

"She could tell that I hadn't showered in two weeks."

"Dude, everyone you meet can tell you haven't showered in two weeks."

"I don't know." Sam said, throwing up his hands.

"But I do." Daniel said, stepping back into the conversation. Looking at John, he said "How about you and her practice, so you can see for yourself?"

"Like, a fight?" John asked, staring at him quizzically.

"Yes. And you'll see that she'll beat you."

"Beat me?" John repeated, smiling. He glanced over at her. He was twice her size, even without his legacies it wouldn't be a fair fight. "I don't think so."

"Yes." Daniel said, nodding. "Maybe not Five or Six. But you – definitely."

John just looked at him for a minute. "Alright." He said, standing up. "Sure. I don't have any problem with it, if she wants to." Why not? What did he have to lose? Might as well get some practice in.

"Alright." Daniel said, nodding. Now he was starting to smile. "I'll go get her."

John stretched his arm behind his back, watching as Daniel walked across their camp to Ella. He was speaking to her – her face brightened and she stood up, nodding, and they began to cross back.

"Good luck man." Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Come on." John said. "This'll be a piece of cake." How could it not be? She was tiny.

Sam made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat as he slowly backed away.

"Hey John." Ella said. "So, you want to have a match?"

"Yeah." John said, nodding. "If you want to."

"Of course I do!" Ella said, smiling. "I'm so glad you asked, it'll be really nice to spar with someone besides him for a change." She jerked her head at Daniel, who crossed his arms, grinning.

Something flickered in the back of John's head, suggesting that there might be something to worry about in the fact that she was sparring with Daniel, who was twice her size and looked like he could snap John in two – but he dismissed it.

"So – any rules?" He asked.

"How about no legacies?" Daniel suggested from the side. "To make it more fair."

"Sure." Said John. "That works."

"That sounds good." Ella agreed. "Although," She turned with a worried expression to John. "I can't exactly turn my super senses off – especially not in a fight. But I promise I won't use my force fields, and I won't _try _to use my senses. So do you want to use one of your legacies, to make it even?"

"No," John said, waving her off. "That's fine, it's fair this way." He figured he could afford to give her an advantage, and anyway, he had heightened senses too.

"Okay," Ella said doubtfully.

"Ready?" John asked.

"Ready."

For a split second they both just stood there, staring into one another's eyes. Then John lunged, swinging a punch towards her shoulder. She dodged him nimbly, kicking him in the back of the knee as she turned. He twisted after her, trying to get a hold of her, or at least a hit in. He made a connect with her arm, but even he could tell that it was weak.

She was quick, he'd give her that. He couldn't seem to get a jump on her. Maybe there was something to her super senses after all.

This wasn't anything like the fights he'd had before, fights with normal people, where everything seemed to happen so quickly, where the others seemed slow, as if moving through jello, soft and weak. Now he was the one who felt slow and bulky. Now he was actually fighting someone near his skill level. Yes, he admitted it, she was good. He had underestimated her.

He fell with a jerk flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. His neck snapped, and he groaned. John opened his eyes, finding himself staring up at the painfully clear blue sky. Ella was crouched over him, staring at him warily.

"Match?" She asked.

John nodded. "You win."

She gave a smile and extended a hand to help him up. He took it, wincing as he stood. Yes, he was definitely going to have bruises by tomorrow. "Thanks." He said to her, brushing off his back. "You're a pretty good fighter."

"Thanks." She said, pushing her hands into the small of her back. "You're pretty good too.

"I had an advantage anyway, like we said, kind of using one of my legacies." She was being kind, and he well knew it. She'd completely creamed him.

He nodded, and they both turned away.

Ella walked over to Daniel after the match, who had been watching with a wide grin on his face.

"Good job." He said, holding up his hand.

She obligingly high-fived him, but her face was not enthusiastic. "He's . . ." She cast a glance over at John, and lowered her voice. "He wasn't that good."

"I know." Daniel replied.

"Oh." Ella said, sinking into silence. After a minute or so, she gave a sigh. "I mean, he's a fine fighter, I guess. He just hasn't really been trained, obviously. And I was kind of looking forward to sparring against someone new."

"Oh well." Daniel said, shrugging. "You'll get someone, eventually. It just won't be him. Come on, we can work on some of the stuff from that."

Ella got into position, giving a dramatic sigh but smiling. "Come on, I think I did pretty good that time around."

"You did." Daniel answered seriously, also getting into form. "But there's always room for improvement, right?"

"Naturally. Am I allowed to use force fields?"

"No."

"Fine. I'll beat you anyway."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Well then buddy, you're about to get your wish."

John walked back over to Sam, widening his eyes to mirror Sam's own expression.

"Dude . . ." He said slowly. John gave him a look, warning him not to continue, but Sam either missed the cue or chose to ignore it. "She totally beat your ass."

"Thanks for the support Sam." John said dryly, sitting down.

"Sorry." Sam said, quickly raising up his hands. "Just saying. I mean, and she's a girl too! I mean, Six could totally kill any of us, but Ella . . . we're gonna have to watch our backs."

"They're on our side Sam." John reminded him.

He really wasn't that upset about the fight. It was a good thing that Ella knew how to fight, and fight well, it had been a wholly pleasant surprise to be proved wrong. If only it hadn't been in such a humiliating manner . . .

He watched as Ella and Daniel began sparring. Their moves were so much more graceful than his own jerky improvisations – they almost looked as though they were dancing. A strange, ethereal, deadly dance. John settled his chin on his hand, watching as became lost in his thoughts. Henri had never trained him, not like the other protectors obviously had their charges. John had never really had an interest in it, until now. Now he needed to step it up. It was time to start taking responsibility, time to start becoming what he was destined to be.


	4. Chapter 4

After far too many hours crammed together in rental cars, they pulled up in front of the airport, except for Bernie, who turned into a small fly, and then buzzed out, hovering near John's ear.

"One question." Ella said as they all piled out, eyeing Daniel. "How do we get the knives past security?"

Six merely smiled. "You'll see." She said evasively.

They walked inside, bags slung over their shoulders, to the bustling airport, filled to bursting with people from everywhere, all seeming to be going in a different direction. The chaos hid them well, they blended in and slipped through without a hint of suspicion.

They walked through security without a problem. While Ella kept a steady eye on the knives, she need not have worried. As they went through the scanners, Six merely smiled. Nothing was picked up, and the bags went through without a hitch.

"You made them invisible?" Ella asked as they left security behind.

"Mhmm." Six said, not entirely succeeding in concealing her smugness.

"What about the metal detectors?"

"When I make things invisible," Six said with an air of finality, "They stay invisible."

* * *

Sooner than anyone had expected, they were seated on the plane, taking off, and soaring across the sky to the other side of the world.

John stood, tapping his foot impatiently in the airport. He couldn't say he liked China too much yet. Granted, all he had seen of it thus far was the airport, but at the moment, all he felt was uncomfortable. Bernie had changed back into a dog – he hated being a fly – and John reached down absentmindedly to scratch his head. He felt out of place here – even just appearance wise, he stood out. And being on the run from murderous aliens was not a good time to be conspicuous.

Six walked over to him, coffee in hand. John looked at it, eyebrow raised.

"Wow, that must be a new record, longest time you've gone without caffeine."

"Shut up." Was her eloquent response. "I don't question your eating habits."

"I'm assuming we're walking?" Sam grumbled, arduously toting his bag up to them.

"You assume correctly." Six said, hardly looking at him, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Wow, it's just us." Sam said, setting down his bag and rubbing his hands.

"Just like old times." John said.

"Yeah." Six said. "That whole two weeks of good old times we had together. Here come Ella and Daniel now."

Sam pretended to look anywhere but at them, keeping up the appearance that they didn't know one another, but Six stared at them steadily as they made their way across the airport. John tried to do as Sam, but found it too difficult and just watched them approach. They would be joining them soon enough anyway, no point in trying to diffuse suspicion.

Maneuvering their way through the throngs of people was no simple task. Ella, whose hands had been entangled in her hair, let them down, her hair tumbling about her shoulders, and she reached towards Daniel. He handed Ella her bag. Their hands met as they made the exchange, and a shock seemed to go through each of them, they quickly jerked their hands away, each determinedly not making eye contact.

Six shook her head. "I feel sorry for them." She stated frankly.

"What?" John said, shaking his head as if to clear it and turning towards her. "What do you mean?"

Six inclined her head towards Daniel and Ella. "When a Lorien falls in love, it's forever." She quoted snarikly.

John's mind couldn't help but jump instantly to Sarah. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, his Sarah, so beautiful, so strong, so wonderful, and so far away.

"So?" He said grimly. "It's perfect then. They're already always together."

Six gave him that strange look again, that look that said he was stupider than even she had thought, so much so that even she pitied him. "No." She said plainly. "That's a big no-no. The Garde aren't supposed to be romantically involved outside of the Garde, let alone with a cepan. It's . . . very un-orthodox, to say the least."

John glanced over at them again. They were standing maybe twenty or so feet away – they had agreed to split up, to detract suspicion. He wondered if Ella could hear them from this far away in the bustling airport.

"So . . ." Sam was saying, looking critically at Six. "You're saying that you'll only ever fall in love with one person?"

"Not me personally." Six said briskly. "I don't believe in that kind of stuff."

"But isn't that, like, a fact?" Sam persisted. "You can't not believe in facts. That'd be like saying you don't believe in, like DNA or something!"

"Who says I even have to believe in DNA?" Six asked. "I'm an alien life form, remember?"

Sam gaped for a moment before recovering himself. "But you said you all were completely humanoid –"

"Relax Sam, we are." Six said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I have DNA. But love is not at all similar to DNA. It is the exact opposite of DNA."

"Well, not the exact opposite –"

"What I'm saying is, love is complicated, and how are you even supposed to know when you fall in love? It's too messy, and what if it's forever for you, but not for the other person. I think it's a bunch of made up fairy tales, that are only true because everyone believed them."

"Well, maybe you're just saying that because you've never fallen in love." Sam suggested.

Six gave him a withering look. "I'm not the type of girl who falls in love." She said flatly.

"No kidding." Sam muttered.

* * *

Ella sat down, tapping her foot as they waited for the other two, determinedly not looking at Daniel. Determinedly not thinking about how their hands had touched just a few moments ago. Determinedly not thinking about the spark she had felt as her fingers grazed his. Determinedly not thinking about another time that they had touched . . .

_Ella didn't remember exactly how it had happened. All she remembered was that it had. _

_ She knew that she got funny feelings around Daniel. Feelings that she liked, but at the same time wished would go away. She had to stop herself from looking at him, tear her gaze away. She felt his absence as though a part of her were missing._

_ She didn't know how exactly it had happened. All she knew was that it had. _

_ They had been standing in their tiny kitchen, talking, arguing maybe, about something, she didn't know, nothing important. _

_ They weren't new to D.C anymore, nor were they new to one another. They had been living here for about six months now. Practically an eternity. They both knew how things were. But maybe they had forgotten. _

_ Daniel had dirt smudged on his face. Ella shook her head, giving a patronizing smile, and reached up to wipe it off. It wasn't until a second later that she realized what she was doing, becoming minutely aware that she was touching him. She could tell that he had realized too, as his hand reached up, cupping hers. _

_ Suddenly his lips were on hers. They were soft and sweet and hers immediately responded in kind. She was melting, in absolutely the best way possible. It was a moment of pure bliss, and if she knew anything – which she wasn't entirely sure she did at the moment – she knew that she had never felt more whole than she did at this exact moment. _

_ It was over far too quickly. Ella almost wondered if it had even happened at all. But she knew it had. She could tell, from her racing heart, from the look in Daniel's eyes, and from the tugging feeling she felt from chest looking at him. From her heart. _

_ She didn't know how it had happened. All she knew was that somehow, she had fallen in love with Daniel. _

_ She knew it was wrong. She knew it even as they stood there, silent, not touching but hardly a hair's breadth apart. She had known on some level even as she had kissed him. But it had felt so exactly right, despite it being something completely wrong. _

_ But no matter how right her heart insisted it was, she knew that it was wrong. It shouldn't have happened, but unfortunately it had, and now it would never happen again. _

_ "I – I have to – to go." She forced out, and turned and practically fled from the room, not daring to meet his eyes. _

_ She didn't think she had slept at all that night. Her mind was too full of constantly whirring thoughts for any kind of peace. _

_ But by the next morning she had successfully shunted all those thoughts to a far corner of her head, carefully locked up in a box never to be opened. She had simply decided that the incident was never to be spoken of again. _

_ The next morning was difficult. She'd never had a hangover before, but she rather imagined that this is what it would have felt like. Completely drained, she gripped her cup as though it were the only thing stabilizing her. She was alone. Not just alone in the sense that she was the only one in the apartment, but alone in the sense that she had lost her best, basically only, friend, and her only love. She knew the stories; when a Lorien fell in love, it was intense, all consuming, and permanent. But she also knew the rules. There could be no future for them. There shouldn't have even been a past. _

_ The door swung open, and Daniel walked in. Ella looked up automatically, then quickly back down again. Even the split second when their eyes had met had been too much. He stood across the table from her, his eyes focused on her. A heavy, stiff silence hung between them for several minutes. Finally, Daniel broke it. "I'm sorry". They were the first words he had said to her since – since then. Ella's head jerked up at his voice, then she quickly looked away again, her face beginning to heat up against her will. She looked sideways at the wall. "For what?" She asked faintly after a few moments. He just looked at her for several moments, and silence filled the space between them once more. He eventually left the room, and Ella returned to staring down at her drink, slowly swirling it back and forth. _

_ It was never brought up again, and she went on pretending it had never happened. But she knew that it had, and she couldn't forget it. And, truth be told, she didn't think she would have wanted to forget if she could have. _

_ Of course she hadn't forgotten. How could she have? Daniel obviously hadn't either. But while they put up a good façade, there were changes made. While for a time their conversations had been strained and avoidance seemed to be the norm, what with being together nearly constantly, this had to wane, and so it did. They fell back into their easy friendship. But now they were careful. They had gone too far once, she would not have her mistakes repeated. Touching was absolutely out of the question. While a good rule in theory, it seemed to serve only to make her heart beat that much faster when his hand merely brushed hers . . . _

Ella stole a glance over at Daniel, and then quickly chided herself for it. She needed to stop thinking about those things. It was wrong.

A garde could absolutely not have a relationship with a cepan. Especially not her own cepan.

The cepan were there to protect. It was a working relationship. It would be completely inappropriate to make it a personal one. Out of the question.

Even if it wasn't their cepan, specifically, well it was still – still – still not supposed to happen. The garde found their one among other members of the garde. The two groups were not supposed to intermix.

It was scandalous. It was eyebrow-raising. It was disreputable. It simply wasn't done. And she would not be the one to do it. No matter how much she wanted to.


	5. Chapter 5

They finally moved out of the overcrowded airport, onto the equally, if not more so, overcrowded streets. John lifted up a hand to shield his eyes from the suddenly blinding sun. Six stopped abruptly in front of him, and he nearly bumped into her. She was looking back over her shoulder at the others, beckoning that they could join them now.

She cast a contemptuous glance at John, apparently warning him that he was invading her personal bubble. The next second, her glare was on the second offender – Bernie, who was panting around her ankles. She eyed him critically for a second or two.

"Don't they eat dogs here?" She asked.

"Occasionally, but it's not too common." Tyler said. "I don't think you have to worry about Bernie, they aren't going to go grabbing tourists' dogs."

"Hmph." Six grunted, nudging Bernie away from her with her foot. "Pity." John didn't bother arguing, there was no point when she was in a mood.

"Ella," He said. "Can you tell where Eight is?"

"I should be able to." She replied. Her eyes fluttered shut. They stood there, watching and waiting. Her eyes flicked back open again. "If you guys could all just move together," She said with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, it's easier if you're all in one spot, . . . easier to spot the non-human that's not one of you . . ." Her eyes were closed again. A moment or two later she opened them with a smile. "Got it." She said.

"Great." Said Six. "You're sure?"

"I'm positive that there is a Lorien in Beijing about two miles from here." Ella said, pointing somewhere off the John's left. "I'm guessing that has to be Eight."

"Alright." Said Patrick, stepping back. "Lead the way."

They caught a bus, heading further into the heart of Beijing. It rambled off through the packed streets as they settled themselves in – or at least as settled as one could ever be when packed among hordes of tourists and commuters.

"I was wondering," Daniel said, leaning across a pack of Americans, who were arguing loudly while consulting numerous maps and gps'. "How we were going to approach Eight. With all due respect, I don't think that the way you introduced yourselves to us was necessarily the best method. And I knew I don't want to get on the wrong side of Eight's cepan."

"Well, it'll help that we're doing it in daylight now." John pointed out.

Six nodded along, not really seeming to be paying attention.

"That's true," Ella said "But we should still probably have a plan for how we're going to do this, in hopefully a better way than you did for us. Because, well, we kind of thought you were Mogs or something."

"Yeah, we got that." Six said, leaning her head back.

"Did you approach Five that way too?" Daniel asked curiously, turning to Tyler and Patrick.

The edge of Patrick's mouth twitched and Tyler closed his eyes briefly. "Our experience was none too good either." He said.

"What happened?" Ella asked.

Six grimaced. "In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best plan." She admitted.

Ella and Daniel were watching expectantly, waiting for the story. John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well," He started. "We got to the town they were in, and figured out generally where he was. We started – observing – people who we thought might be Lorien. After a day or two, we narrowed it down to Tyler." He stopped again, staring at his knees.

"Then what?" Daniel prompted.

"It was the middle of the day, outside of their house. We had followed him home from school, and were going to go and talk to him."

Tyler shook his head, but also appeared to be barely containing laughter.

"Apparently, they had known we were tailing them for some time, and we walked right into a trap they had set for us." From the grimace Six's mouth was set in, they could assume it had been none too pleasant. "It took . . . quite a while for us to sort things out and explain."

"In our defense," Tyler said "You had us scared out of our wits. We thought you were Mogs or something."

"How about not scaring Eight into thinking were Mogs for a change then?" Ella said, her eyes glinting.

"It's not our fault." Six said. "All the numbers and their cepans are bound to be edgy. It's what's kept them alive."

"That is true," Patrick conceded. "But being a Lorien, having lived with a cepan for most of your lives, you should have guessed that's how we would have reacted."

"Hey!" Six said, throwing up her hands. "If any of you have a better way to do it, by all means! But we didn't have all day to sit around coming up with a plan!"

"Well, not sneaking into her house in the dead of night might be a start." Ella said dryly.

"Yeah," Sam said with a laugh. "Hey, wait – her? So, Eight's a girl?"

"Oh, um, I think so." Ella said. "I can't say with complete certainty, but her spirit feels like a girl, if that makes sense."

"No." Six answered. "But we'll take your word for it."

"I feel like we're talking about having a baby." Daniel said, leaning back in his seat. "Is it a boy or a girl? What are we going to name it?"

"Go ahead, Daddy." Sam said, elbowing John.

"Hey, how come I'm the dad?"

"Well, Sam's already the mom," Six said, only halfway succeeding at hiding her smile.

Sam spluttered as John laughed, saying "Alright, how about Spike?"

"Spike?" Six repeated in a dead pan.

"Seriously, that's the best you come up with? I should so have gotten to name her," Sam muttered.

"For a girl?" Ella asked.

"How about Spikette?" Tyler suggested, grinning.

"I always wanted to have a dog named Spike." John said in explanation.

"Dude, you kind of have a dog now." Sam pointed out, but Six was turning to look at John, aghast.

"Eight is not your –"

"Children!" Patrick interrupted, standing up. "I think this is our stop."

It was indeed. Their conversation abruptly stopped as they forced their way through the throngs of the overpopulated bus out onto the just as overcrowded streets.

"Hope no one's claustrophobic." Sam muttered, rubbing his shoulder where a passing stranger had elbowed him. Patrick and Daniel appeared so uneasy that John almost wondered if they were. Six didn't seem too happy about it either.

"Okay," Ella said, closing her eyes. Daniel had to pull her out of the way of a few kids on skateboards barreling down the sidewalk. "She's a few streets over." Ella said, opening her eyes again.

"Should we split up?" John asked.

"We can't really do that, since Ella's the only one who'll be able to spot her." Six said.

"Ella, lead the way." Patrick said. "We'll all try to follow. Once you can really see her, point her out to us."

Ella nodded, slipping through the crowd with Daniel at her side. It wasn't easy to follow her in the bustling streets, but John had a few inches over the majority of the crowd, which helped. Bernie had disappeared again, undoubtedly having exchanged his beagle form for a more convenient one. John wondered what it was, and whether it had been because of the difficulty of navigating the streets, or of Six's dog comment.

There were so many distractions here, John thought he would have a difficult time tailing Eight even when he did know what he – she – whatever, looked like. Not only were there people everywhere, but they were all talking, people shouting at one another, vendors yelling simply to be heard, and cars honking and stopping and screeching, shouting at bicyclists. A waft of exhaust from one such car hit John full in the face, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust – something had smelled good before then too, like dumplings, and he had been trying to figure out where it had been coming from.

But now Six was gesturing at him. There she was, indeed a she, Number Eight. She was walking quickly through the crowd, her back to them. She blended in well with the crowd. She appeared to be of Chinese descent, although John knew that she couldn't be, with pale skin and long dark hair. She was wearing a blazer and dress pants, appearing to be several years older than him.

John took his eyes away from her and glanced around, looking for anyone who appeared to be sticking close, heading in the same direction, or who was watching her as they were. He didn't spot anyone, but of course, that far from ruled out the possibility that they were there.

However, Ella's next words accorded with his observations. "I don't sense any other Lorien around besides us and her. I don't feel a cepan."

John wondered if that meant that her cepan had died too. Unfortunately, that did seem to be the norm.

"Okay," Six said, clasping her hands together. "I say, now's the time to split up. Even if she doesn't have a cepan watching her back, she'd have to be blind not to notice a group of seven trailing her."

Patrick nodded. "Three groups. But we keep one another in sight."

There was no need to discuss what the three groups would be. Easily splintering off into their three factions, they continued to follow her, watching, waiting for an opportunity. John had lost track of Bernie, but trusted that he could take care of himself and would rejoin them soon enough. Six was all business, walking several paces ahead of him, not bothering to acknowledge either him or Sam.

It was hard to tell whether Eight was suspicious or not – she didn't appear to be so, but that didn't mean anything. John wondered idly what her legacies were, hopefully they would be something useful against the Mogs.

Eight entered into what appeared to be a small boutique. Tyler and Patrick, who were close on her tail, quickly followed. After delaying a minute or two across the street, John, Six, and Sam went in as well.

It was a small and busy store, though not nearly as crowded as the street outside. John didn't see Eight anywhere, but Tyler and Patrick were hovering over a circular table with a long red tablecloth, littered with bracelets and bangles. They slowly made their way over to them, trying not to appear too deliberate.

"Where is she?" Six demanded out of the corner of her mouth.

"Dressing room." Patrick muttered back.

Six gave a curt nod, and wandered over to a rack of necklaces, pretending to examine them.

Ella and Daniel came into the shop now, positioning themselves near the door. John watched the door Eight had gone through, keeping his eye on the steady stream of people passing from one room to the other. He wondered if this was it, if they were going to be able to get to talk to her now. It was crowded here, yes, but it was everywhere, and it was a pretty small building.

After a few minutes, John had to start moving around the store, to avoid appearing to be suspiciously staring at the door to the dressing rooms, which admittedly was exactly what he had been doing. He examined the racks of clothes, feeling a bit awkward doing so, as he was quite obviously far from their targeted customer.

Sam tugged at John's arm, quickly bringing his attention away. "Something's up." Sam said, nodding his head towards their group, standing clustered near the door.

"Are you sure?" John heard Patrick ask as they approached. "I haven't seen her leave yet."

"Yes, I'm certain." Ella said, though her brow was furrowed, darting towards the door. The sun glared in John's eyes as the exited the shop, returning to the throngs of the streets. Ella began weaving through the crowd, Daniel stuck to her side and the rest close on their heels.

"There she is." Ella said, pointing.

John looked. Then he looked back at Ella. He may not have had Ella's powers, but he had eyes. And that was definitely not the same girl she had pointed to earlier.

"Ella," Daniel said slowly.

"I know!" She snapped. "I know, but – it's her!"

Her conviction was enough to make John looked again, but he came to the same conclusion. That was definitely not the same girl. The one she was pointing to now was shorter, had shorter hair too, hair that was a dark brown with red streaks. She was wearing jeans, not the clean cut suit, and had a pair of sunglasses perched on her head.

"I'm going back to watch the dressing room." Six said flatly.

"No!" Ella exclaimed. "It's definitely her, I know it is!"

"It's okay, we all make mistakes." Six said calmly, though her mouth was pursed in irritation.

"This isn't a mistake! I know it's weird, and I don't know how – but it's her."

"Maybe we were wrong. Maybe there's more than one Lorien here." Tyler suggested. "Maybe two of them are here, and that's what's throwing you off?"

"No," Ella said, shaking her head, not taking her eye off the girl she was insisting was Eight. "It's not just that she's Lorien, she's the same person I saw earlier, the same one who went into that store. And the one who went into that store isn't there anymore."

"Ella," Six said, somewhat impatiently. "You do realize that that is not the same girl, right?"

"I know." Ella repeated. "But it's her, I know. It's her same soul, essence, whatever. I haven't gone crazy, it's pretty hard to mistake a Lorien spirit on Earth."

"Someone should go back and check the dressing rooms." Patrick said. Six immediately set out back into the store. "Just in case." He added, pacifyingly to Ella.

"Alright," she said. "But even if that first girl is still in there, she's not Eight anymore. That girl is. And if we don't hurry, she's going to lose us." With that, Ella set off into the crowd, along with Daniel in her shadow.

Patrick heaved a sigh, closing his eyes briefly. John guessed he was wondering how he had gotten stuck as the chaperone of a group of super-powered teenagers. "Okay," he said. "Tyler, Sam, you wait here for Six, follow the first girl if you can find her. John, come with me, we'd better stick with those two."

John dutifully followed Patrick into the crowd, feeling a bit honored that he had been picked to come along. It was relatively easy to follow them, even though John was certain that they stuck out like sore thumbs, far from ideal when trying to track someone. He thought he saw the girl turn her head a few times, maybe look at their reflections in shop windows – but he could just as easily have been imagining it.

The shop now quite entirely out of sight, Eight turned a corner. John saw Ella and Daniel round it as well, and less than a minute later he and Patrick reached it too.

The three were standing, facing one another, arms crossed. John and Patrick quickly joined the group, and the girl bestowed her glare on them as well.

"Why," she hissed. "Are you following me?"

"We just want to talk to you." Patrick said in a steady voice.

"Why?" she demanded.

"We're like you." John said, deciding to go out on a limb and trust that Ella was right, that this was Eight. "Don't worry, we're not Mogs, we're Lorien too."

She just stared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about." John sighed. Oh well, no real harm done. Just another person who thought they were crazy. Impressive that she had noticed them following her though. "Just stop following me, I'm not interested in becoming part of some government program. I'm not a weapon."

"No one said you were." Daniel said calmly.

"Then we're in agreement." She said, starting to back away. "So you can stop following me, and tell whoever you're working for to give it up – because there's no way I'd come to work for them, or anybody else."

"Wait," Ella said. The girl ignored her. "I said, please wait." Ella repeated, sending up a force field.

"Ella,"' Patrick said in a reproving voice.

"She's Lorien." Ella insisted. "She is."

The girl's face turned ghastly pale as she was stopped in her tracks, and she slammed her palms against the slightly shimmering air.

"You don't have to hide," Ella said. "We're all Lorien too."

But the girl didn't seem to have heard. She was still staring at the space in front of her, her hands pressed against the force field, a wild, caged animal look in her eye.

"What is this?" She asked, her voice quavering.

It was then that it happened. Only for an instant, like a tv show flickering out of focus, but it was unmistakable. The gaudy earrings, the sunglasses, completely disappeared, simply faded away, the floaty top replaced by a simple, worn t-shirt. Just as quickly, they re-appeared, along with a stricken look across the girl's face.

"What was that?" John asked, staring at her. There was no way he had imagined that.

"Illusion." Said Patrick. Then, to the girl, "You're Number Eight."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's okay. I am Number Five's cepan. You can trust me."

"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about." She started to back away, but was once again stopped by the force field.

"Eight," John said. "Really, it's okay, you can stop pretending. We're Lorien too."

"Where's your cepan?" Daniel asked. "Are they still alive?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she asked, her voice rising. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Guys," Ella said softly. "She's telling the truth. I think she actually doesn't know what we mean."

"What?" John asked, turning to Ella. How could she not know what they meant, they had hardly said anything yet.

"What, exactly, doesn't she know?" Patrick asked.

"Well – anything." Ella said. "About the Lorien."

"Thank you." The girl said quietly. There was silence for a minute.

"Someone needs to go get the others." Patrick said, his voice fainter than usual.

"No need." Came Six's voice, as she came into view, Sam and Tyler close behind. They came to stand with them, all staring at this new girl. "The girl we were following at first is gone."

"Because she's this girl." Ella said, nodding towards her. "She's an illusionist. Right?"

She nodded. "How did you know?"

"We have powers too."

"Is her cepan here?" Six asked briskly, taking the revelation in stride.

"She doesn't have one, apparently." John replied. "She doesn't know she's Lorien.

"What?"

"Look," the girl interrupted. "You must have the wrong person,"

"We don't." Ella insisted. "You are a Lorien, there's no mistaking that. The only one in Beijing."

"I don't even know what a Lorein is,"

"We will tell you." Patrick said. "I don't know how this happened, but we will explain everything, everything you ought to have known a long time ago."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"What's your name?" Tyler asked.

She hesitated for a moment. "Teresa."

"Teresa," he repeated. "Do you know of anyone else who can do the kinds of things you can? Who can change their appearance at will?" she slowly shook her head, and he nodded. "Right. We can. We're the only other ones on this planet who can, who are like you."

"You are?" she asked softly, looking again back at the shimmering air behind her, Ella's force field.

Tyler floated a few feet off the ground in answer, and Teresa stared at him. "At least hear us out." He said.

It took a few moments, but at last the girl – Teresa – responded. "Okay." She said. "We can talk. But that's all, just talk."

"Right, just talk." Tyler replied immediately. "That's all we want to do."

Teresa nodded, not breaking eye contact with him.

"Why don't we find somewhere to sit down?" Patrick suggested.

"Yes," Six seconded. "This might take a while."


	6. Chapter 6

The restaurant they eventually settled on was small and crowded, but comfortable. While there were more than enough people to overhear them, all of them were creating plenty of their own noise, making it very difficult to eavesdrop. Besides, the only people – if they could be called people – they were worried about were Mogs, to whom this would all be inconsequential, and no one else would likely take them seriously even if they were able to overhear.

Teresa looked a bit uncomfortable. She had changed her appearance yet again, now looking more like the first girl they had seen, but with entirely different clothes. Her fingers skittered nervously around the edge of her tea cup, just as her eyes did around the table, to Tyler, Patrick, Daniel, Ella, Six, Sam, John, and back again.

"Teresa," Six began. "Where were you born?"

"You start." Teresa said instead.

Six looked mutinous, but Patrick said "Fair enough." And began. He told the story of their home planet, of Lorien, of the Mogadorians attacking, of the escape plan, and of nine of the Garde being sent to Earth. About how these nine had legacies, powers no human had, and also about how the Mogs were still looking for them.

Teresa sat quietly throughout the entire story, hardly saying a word. She didn't ask many questions, but John wasn't sure if that meant she believed them.

"So the reason I'm – we're all – different," she said slowly, once the story was finished, "is because we're not human?"

"Ah." Six interrupted, cutting her off. "Before we answer any questions, we want to hear your side of the story."

Teresa didn't look too pleased, but she began.

"I don't know where I was born or who my parents were. I grew up in Mexico, with a woman who took in a bunch of other children."

"You say you did not know what a cepan was," Patrick said.

"I don't." Teresa said coldly.

"I'm not questioning you," Patrick said. "It's merely, well, impossible that a Lorien could have come to Earth without a cepan. Was there no one, no adult in your life who seemed to be looking out for you? Perhaps this woman?"

"No." Teresa shook her head firmly. "No, she wasn't like you. She was very kind to me, she took care of me, but she was perfectly normal. She wasn't a warrior. She had a family, she was completely human."

"Is she still alive?"

"I hope so." Teresa answered. "Can I continue?" Glancing around the table, she went on. "I lived there for a while, growing up. I'm not sure how long. Eventually I decided that it was time for me to leave; so I left. I've been moving around ever since."

Six stared at her, arms crossed. "A bit more detail, please?"

Teresa matched her stare. "What more do you need to know?"

"When did you leave Mexico?"

"I think I was about ten, I told you, I'm not sure how long I was there."

"You've been on your own since you were ten?" Ella asked, leaning forward.

Teresa nodded, her expression unreadable. "I figured out pretty fast that other people couldn't do what I could. But not fast enough, people there still knew me as the odd child. I needed to get away, to somewhere I could hide. I could make myself a new identity whenever I wanted, so I made myself look like an adult, and left."

"You had control over illusion since you were ten?" Patrick asked.

"I've had it my whole life." Teresa responded, glancing around at them. "Why? I thought you said we were the same."

"Usually your legacies – the powers – don't develop until you hit puberty, about thirteen." Tyler explained. "It's very unusual to realize them so early. But not in a bad way."

"Perhaps it was the trauma." Patrick speculated. "On your own, on a strange planet, could have brought it out early."

Teresa shrugged. "I don't know what did it. All I know is the end result."

"When was the first time you ran into Mogs?" John asked.

This made Teresa think for a moment. "They're the evil aliens." Sam put in helpfully. "They're good at looking like human, but they're pretty much always male, tall, and when not disguised, they these things like gills, instead of noses."

She nodded. "I'd never heard of them until today," she said slowly. "So I can't say for sure. But, I may have. Once. When I was living in Pakistan. There were a couple guys around, asking questions. They didn't seem quite – normal. But I didn't stick around to find out anything more about them, and I never saw them again."

There was silence for a few minutes, as each member of the table continued to digest the information.

"I still don't get it." Sam said at last. "How could you have not known you were Lorien? I know," he added hastily, "That no one ever told you about it before. But how could that have happened? Aren't you all supposed to have cepans, protectors? How come you didn't get one?"

"She had one." Patrick said firmly. "There were eighteen of us in the ship that left Lorien, nine garde children, and their nine cepans."

"Well, something must have happened once they got to Earth, obviously." Six said. "She probably died. It happens."

"Well but still, she – sorry, you – were just a kid. Why didn't one of the other cepan take you in?"

Teresa shrugged. "I'm the wrong person to be asking that question to." She said simply.

"We had no idea." Patrick said in reply. "It would have been far too dangerous for us to communicate with one another. We never knew."

"Well, now we all know." Six said firmly. "And we really ought to get going – we've been sitting here too long for my taste. Teresa, if you could pack and say you're goodbyes, I think we'd better leave in the morning."

"What?" Teresa asked, pulling back from the table.

"We're going to find the last of us, Number Nine." John explained. "If we all join together, we should be powerful enough to defeat the Mogs once and for all."

"Okay, that's great." Teresa said. "But I agreed to come and talk with you, not to go anywhere with you."

It was Six's turn to ask now, with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It was nice to meet you, and hear your story. It really was." She said earnestly. "But I'm not going to go with you. I have a life here, and I don't want to get involved with your battle. I have enough problems of my own."

"It's your battle too," John tried to explain. "It's all Lorien's battle."

"The Mogs won't ask questions, Teresa." Six said. "They will come for you."

"Okay." Teresa said. "But really, how do you know I'm even the one you're looking for. Yes, I'm – different – like you, but like you were saying, I didn't have a – a cepen, or whatever. Maybe I'm not the right person."

"You are." Ella said firmly.

"Right." Teresa said, without much conviction.

"Teresa," Tyler said slowly. "Do you have scars?"

Once again, John saw the slight flicker in Teresa's clothes, momentarily replaced with the old jeans and t-shirt he had seen back on the street. Her head whipped around to face Tyler, a look of shock painted across her face.

"What?" She asked faintly.

Tyler leaned down, and carefully rolled up the left leg of his jean, revealing three spiral shaped scars, burned into his skin. "These." He said.

Teresa's mouth dropped open as she stared, her hand flying down to graze her own leg. "How –"

"We all have them." Tyler explained quietly. "All nine of us. It's part of the spell binding us together – remember? Every time one of us is killed, we get another scar, to let us know it's one closer to being us."

Teresa appeared to be at a loss for words, her eyes filled with the three scars. Her hand reached out slowly, stopping just from touching them.

"You would be safe with us Teresa." Six said. "Safer than you would be on your own. And you could really help us."

It took Teresa a moment or two longer, but her decision was made. "Alright." She said, without a trace of doubt. "I'm coming with you."


	7. Chapter 7

Over twelve long hours later, they were back in the United States, setting up camp in a hotel room.

Money wouldn't be an object anymore. Having an illusionist around was rather handy; the right sized piece of paper could instantly become any bill they wanted.

"I have a question, if you don't mind." Ella said to Teresa, carefully sitting on the bed across from her.

Teresa looked up, finishing taking her shoes off. "Sure." She said, straightening up. "Shoot."

"How come, back in China, it was only your clothes that changed back to normal when you lost your concentration, and not your appearance?"

Teresa smiled. "You're pretty smart. And when it happened, I was even hoping that you hadn't noticed anything had changed." Ella just smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "Well, the farther away it is from me, the harder it is to keep up. But that's not the main reason." Teresa paused, and Ella remained silent, waiting. "When I accidently dropped the illusion on my clothes, it just reverted back to what I was actually wearing. But . . . there's nothing to revert back to for my appearance."

Ella's forehead creased. "What do you mean?"

"I guess, when I change my appearance, it's changed. I don't have a 'real' me, or whatever. I don't know what I 'really' look like, how I was born."

Ella's eyes widened. "You – you don't? Oh, that's – I'm sorry,"

"No, no, don't be." Teresa said, smiling as she waved her off. "I don't mind."

"Besides, then you get to choose who you are. You're free, you truly get to choose your identity." Six said, joining in the conversation.

Teresa nodded. "Exactly."

"So you really didn't know anything, about any of this." Six said, sitting criss-crossed on the bed.

"No." Teresa replied, moving over a bit to make room for her.

"You just thought you were an orphan, then, I guess?"

"Yes." She answered, shrugging. "I mean, I knew I was different. Obviously. And I had – have – these, memories, I guess. They're starting to make sense now, the more I think about them. I used to think they were just dreams. But I think they must be of that day, when the Mogadorians attacked, and we came to Earth. There's always a lot of blue light. People running around, everywhere. Chaos. And then it'll just be blue, and people screaming." She broke off, her eyes a million miles away.

"What did you think of the scars?" Ella asked, curiously, after a moment. "It must have been really weird when you got them."

"I was scared out of my mind." Teresa said grinning, rubbing the spot on her leg. "The first time, I think Ms. Maria – my foster mother – thought I had gone crazy, the other kids told her I had just started screaming and holding my leg. When I showed her the scar, I think she thought I had joined some kind of gang, or something."

"The other two were a bit easier," she went on. "I was still terrified. But I managed to forget about it sometimes. And it was always over pretty quickly. I just assumed it was another way I was different, like with being able to change appearance at will. So, I guess I was kind of right, actually."

"I remember when I got my second one," Six said after a moment. "I was in school. I was scared out of my wits, but I was even more scared that someone would notice if I screamed, or even if I moved, that someone would suspect something and figure it all out, and I would be as good as gone. So I just sat there, trying not even to grimace even though it hurt so much. And then I got this weird idea that there might be more than one scar being burned into my leg, and that maybe all of the other ones before me had been killed, and the Mogs were coming for me now. It was pretty stupid, I mean, I could feel the scar being burned into me, obviously there was only one. But I was so scared that I believed it. I was so paranoid that I went to the bathroom so I could check, and I ended up just leaving and going home for the rest of the day."

Six traced over the second scar lightly, a bemused expression on her face. Teresa looked thoughtful.

"It was hard not knowing what they meant, but it must have been almost harder to know, I guess." She said slowly. "I mean, you knew, every time you got one, that it meant that someone had died, and that they were one closer to killing you."

Six nodded grimly. "But you're being generous. Up until a little while ago, none of us knew one another. It was just a stranger dying. It was more purely selfish reasons, knowing we were coming closer to death."

"Maybe," Teresa said shrugging. "But if you were really selfish, you would be off hiding, instead of running around with Number Four."

Six gave a slight smile. "The third scar I got right after my cepan died. That was when I started looking for Four."

Ella lightly touched the corresponding scar on her leg. "The third scar was the first one I ever got with Daniel." She said. "It was – terrifying. I think it was almost as much so for him as for me. He'd never seen one before. You'd think it wouldn't be as bad, after having happened twice before. But it isn't." She paused, and shrugged her shoulders. "It was after that we decided to move to D.C."

"This is going to sound really petty," Six said, looking at the identical marks on the other two girls' legs. "But the thing I always hated most about them was having to keep my legs covered up."

Something broke in the air between them, and they started to laugh. "I know exactly what you mean." Teresa said. "The scars are the one thing I've never been able to change about my appearance – I can't cover them up, or hide them, for some reason."

"Knee socks get old pretty fast," Six said.

"And it sucks to not wear shorts when it's over a hundred degrees outside." Ella added.

"But it's either that, or getting weird looks and questions everywhere you go."

"Sweating it out, or scrutiny." Six said with a sigh. "I just let it go sometimes. But I never could in school. Kids notice everything when they're bored in class. And then you're branded as the scarred girl forever."

"As if we weren't already branded enough." Ella said.

"Make up can only do so much." Teresa sighed.

"Make up," Six said, rolling the word around in her mouth. "I never thought of trying that. Do you have any on you?"

Teresa shrugged, blinking her eyes. Suddenly, she had lime green eye shadow. She blinked again, and it turned a sparkling purple. Again, and a smoky eye. Six and Ella simply stared at her.

"That must come in so handy." Ella said at last.

Teresa nodded. "Once you get past the weirdness, it's actually pretty awesome."

"How long'd it take you to get past the weirdness, without ever having someone explain it to you?"

"A bit quicker than it probably should have." Teresa admitted.

"How long?" Six asked again, grinning.

"Only a couple of months after I figured it out. I just couldn't resist." Teresa blushed, looking down at her knees.

"That's a good thing." Six said, smiling outright. "It's probably what kept you alive."

* * *

Sam grumbled as he sat himself down next to John. "Tomorrow, we are so getting a car." He stared moodily over at the group of girls, gossiping on the beds, their legs spread out in front of them, tracing subconsciously over the scars.

"You aren't seriously in a mood over having to walk here from the airport, are you?" John asked.

"No." Sam sighed. "It's just," He gestured helplessly over to the girls. "Every time we meet the next number, I'm the outsider again. All of you guys can instantly relate to one another. You're all Lorien. You all had these protectors. You all have memories of Mog attacks. You all have those scars. And I don't."

"That's a good thing Sam, not something to be mad about."

"I guess. But you guys have all this stuff in common, immediately."

"And you have stuff in common with every other person on Earth immediately. You're actually of the same species, were born on the same planet. Don't you get it Sam, that's huge." John didn't even know what he was trying to express with his hands, waving them around, but he felt as though he were getting something off his chest. "And I know dude, I can definitely sympathize with you. But seriously, this is the only group where you would feel like this."

"Of course." Sam said, but he was smiling. "Just my luck that I pick you guys to hang out with then."

"Luck? More like bad judgment, stupid."

"Hey! I'm the brains of this operation!"

"Looks like we're doomed then."

* * *

"No."

"We wouldn't be going that far out of the way –"

"I said no."

"Look, you aren't in charge –"

"Absolutely not. It's way too dangerous."

"No, the Mogs aren't going to expect us to go back there! It's the one place they probably won't be!"

"You're deluding yourself John." Six said firmly. "We're not going back to Paradise."

"It wouldn't even take that long." John argued, although the hope was gone from his voice.

"Going back would only put her in more danger, John." Six said, with almost a trace of sympathy in her voice. "You don't want that, do you?"

John just glared at her, and strode furiously away. Six shook her head, and returned to packing up her things.

Ella broke away from the small group surrounding Teresa – she could transform into an incredibly accurate Mogadorian – and wandered over to Six.

"So . . . what was that?" she inquired in a low voice, starting to help pack up the various articles lying around, carelessly scattered.

Six just shook her head. "Oh, it's nothing. John's just being stupid – a lovesick puppy."

Ella glanced over at John. He was sitting on the ground, staring moodily at a bit of paper he was twisting over and over again in his hands.

"That doesn't seem much like him." She commented.

Six sighed, rolling her eyes. "I guess normally not. But, apparently, there was this girl – back in Ohio, where he was living when I found him. And, he fell for her. The girl had him whipped. Naturally, he became convinced that she was the only one for him."

Ella nodded slowly, risking a quick glance over at John. "But he still left her."

Six nodded curtly. "Only smart thing he's done so far. He realized he was endangering her, realized that the best thing for him was to come with us, and that, obviously, she had to stay there. So he left her, and he's been miserable ever since."

Ella smiled grimly. "You don't think much of his romance, do you?"

"No." Six replied, without a thought. "But even if he is a deluded old fool, it doesn't change his feelings. It's killing him. Unfortunately. And now's a time when we need him at his best."

"Well, really, what could be the harm? If it would make him happy, we could probably afford a quick stop out of the way."

"No." Six said firmly, shaking her head. "Too much to risk. There were Mogs swarming over the place the last time we were there. And if they get back together again, either Sarah will have moved on, and then we'll have a heartbroken John on our hands which would actually be even worse, or they'll get twice as lovesick. And then, you can bet that they'll insist on staying together, which means we'll be dragging along another useless human."

"Sam's not useless." Ella said absently.

"Maybe not." Six said grudgingly. "If you call attracting freaks a talent. Anyway, we need to get to Nine in Mexico as soon as possible. I don't know how much longer we're going to be able to evade the Mogs, and we're not going to fail when we're only one away from reaching our full power."

* * *

"No, not quite." Tyler said, making a valiant effort to suppress a grin.

"What?" Teresa asked plaintively. "I did exactly what you did!"

"Not exactly." Tyler said. "Try again?"

"This sucks." Teresa grumbled, but she obliged, throwing another punch.

She had made herself bigger. She had made herself stronger. She'd gotten rid of gorgeous long hair that got in the way. She had fingernails that were long enough to practically be claws. Yet she still could not manage to even come close to this punk's skill.

Apparently, these cepans had done more than just provide them with all the answers. They'd also taught all of them to be freaking ninjas.

Teresa had never considered herself to be weak. She knew how to fend for herself. She was fast and strong, more so than the average person, at least. Until she had met them, and suddenly she was at the back of the pack. Way at the back. She was so far back, you wouldn't even realize she was really part of the pack.

Not that she wasn't trying to remedy the situation. She was trying, practicing. Only she had over ten years worth of training to catch up on. And frankly, she wasn't doing so hot.

"Is that right?" Teresa panted.

"Well," Tyler drew out. Teresa groaned.

"Maybe it's time we took a break." He suggested.

"Fine." Teresa said, flopping down on the ground, trying not to look too eager to take his suggestion. From his expression, she wasn't sure if she had managed it.

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Tyler said, sitting down next to her.

"No worries about that." Teresa said grimly. "I can hardly seem to beat anything up."

Tyler smiled. "You're doing really well." Teresa gave him a look. He didn't seem to have even broken a sweat.

"I thought we were all super-powered aliens." Teresa said, trying not to pout. "Then how come all of you guys are so much better than I am?"

"We aren't any better than you," Tyler said. "We've just trained our entire lives to fight like this."

Teresa glanced over at Patrick. She supposed there was some truth in that.

"What was it like?" she asked. "Growing up with Patrick?"

Tyler looked up at Teresa, his mouth slightly open. "Patrick?" He asked, his brow furrowed. "Well, it –" He broke off with a laugh. "It was intense." He said, smiling to himself.

"Yeah?" Teresa was smiling too now.

"Yeah. I mean, it must have been tough, not knowing that you were Lorien, but it was no picnic knowing about it either." Tyler said fondly. "With Patrick, you could never forget that you were one of The Nine, that you were the only hope for two whole planets, and, of course, that the Mogadorians were coming for you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next year, but eventually, they would come for you. That was a given fact."

The light dimmed a bit in Tyler's eyes as his smile fell, seemingly staring directly into the past. "Every spare minute was spent training. We always had to concentrate on becoming better, first and foremost, becoming stronger, getting better control over my legacies. And we always had to keep moving, to throw suspicion off, from humans and Mogs."

"Not much of a childhood either, I see." Teresa said.

"It wasn't bad though." Tyler seemed to have pulled himself back to the present. "It wasn't bad at all. Patrick was the most stable thing I had in my life – the most stable thing I've ever had in my life. He always put me first and – and did everything for me. He's like a dad to me."

"A dad," Teresa repeated, and now it was her eyes that were thousands of miles away. "That's . . . that's really nice."

Tyler nodded solemnly. "I won't ever be able to thank him enough, for everything he's done for me."

"I know what you mean." Teresa said, smiling at him. Tyler smiled back.


	8. Chapter 8

"Where is everyone?" Six demanded, looking around the rest stop.

Sam looked up guiltily. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"I mean," Six said dangerously. "We're missing half the group! Where's John? Where's Tyler? Where's Teresa?"

"I don't know." Sam said, unable to meet her eyes.

"Yes. You. Do." Six growled. "Where'd they go?"

Sam looked around nervously for help, but the others were all studiously ignoring the confrontation. "Away?" he guessed.

"Well, obviously they went _away_ genius," Six said, rolling her eyes. "I could have figured that out just by realizing they _weren't here_. Now where. Did they. Go?"

Sam faltered for a minute under Six's imposing glare. He broke after a few seconds, finally spitting out "Tyler and Teresa left a while ago to go into town."

"Into town?" Six demanded, frowning. "Now! They know we have to leave! Why, we don't need any more supplies!"

"I don't think . . ." Sam started, then caught himself. "uh . . . yeah."

But Six had already turned back on him. "Well then what?"

"Nothing." Sam answered quickly.

"Are they coming back? As in soon? Like the next few minutes?"

"I don't know!" Sam protested.

Six huffed. "Honestly, I didn't think Teresa was going to be trouble. Who knows if there are Mogs around . . ."

"They can fight too. And they'll be back some time tonight," Sam started, attempting to defend them in the space when Six wasn't yelling at him.

"Sometime tonight?" Six repeated, outraged. "We're supposed to be leaving now! What could they possibly have to do in some random town tonight?"

"Um . . . I don't know . . . stuff." Sam muttered vaguely.

But Six was running out of patience. "Come on Sam, spit it out. Where'd they go?"

Sam looked beseechingly around, but no one came to his aid. He sighed. "They went clubbing."

Six simply stared at him. "Clubbing?" She asked incredulously.

Sam nodded guiltily.

"We're in the middle of nowhere!" Six vented. "Where would they even go clubbing?"

"I told you, they went into town." Sam said petulantly.

"This is ridiculous!" Six fumed. "We're on a mission, and one on a strict schedule, to save the Earth from Mogadorians, and they're sneaking off to go clubbing?"

"I guess so." Sam said.

Six didn't pay him much attention. "They don't even have IDs! What, are they going to . . . Teresa. That little . . . wait a minute. Sam, you said Tyler and Teresa went clubbing. Then what happened to John?"

"Nothing." Was Sam's immediate response.

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"He, uh, he went clubbing with them." Sam was talking quickly, avoiding Six's intense gaze. "I just forgot to say his name too. But he's with them. I think. Probably."

Six just continued staring. "How far away is Paradise form here?"

Sam jumped. "Paradise? I - I don't know. Why would you ask something like that? We aren't going there, are we?"

Six's eyes turned dangerous. "He went to see her, didn't he?"

"No!" Sam exclaimed. "No he didn't! Who are you even talking about?"

"You know full well Sam." Six said, her voice eerily calm. "I can't believe him. Doesn't he know how much danger he's putting all of us in?"

"He just wanted to visit her," Sam said meekly.

"Whether he believes it or not, there are more important things than his stupid girlfriend!" Six closed her eyes briefly, rubbing her forehead. Then she strode across the camp, away from Sam.

"Ella, where are they? You can find them."

"What?" Ella asked, turning around.

"We should have gone with them when they invited us." Daniel muttered.

Six glared at him, but it wasn't much of a change from her present expression. "Come on. We're packing up and going. Take us to Tyler and Teresa first, and then we're going to Paradise to drag John away from that girl, and then we are leaving." Six said in a voice that left no room for argument.

"They're just having some fun, Six." Ella said. "Why don't we just wait for them to come back?"

"No." Six said flatly. "We have to leave tonight. And we cannot let John spend any more time with Sarah. It was hard enough to drag him away from her the first time."

"Fine." Ella said, stretching herself up. "I'll show you where they are."

* * *

Sam walked cautiously next to Six, who was still fuming. They were following behind Ella and Daniel, who were leading the way to Tyler and Teresa. Patrick had insisted he would catch up later, much to Six's displeasure. Six had been glued to Ella's side, barking out instructions every five seconds, until Daniel had kicked her back here.

"For 'distracting' her." Six grumbled. "Yeah right."

Sam wisely chose to remain silent on this subject.

"Sam." Six said abruptly, with a sigh. "How did we, the three who actually made this group in the first place, end up being the uncool ones?"

"What?" Sam asked, turning towards her with his mouth open slightly, taken completely off guard.

"You know what I mean." Six said tiredly. "Tyler and Teresa go off clubbing on their own." She still said the word with disdain. "And the only ones they ask to go with them are Ella and Daniel. None of us got an invitation. And Patrick – he's, old. He's too cool for any of us teenagers. How'd this happen?"

Sam shrugged. "I wasn't even cool back in high school – and I don't think being the only human is exactly going to earn me any points."

Six nodded, rolling her eyes. "But still." She persisted. "We're the ones who got together to kick the Mog's asses in the first place. Shouldn't that give us a huge head start? In fact, we're the only ones who have really gotten into a battle with them, shouldn't that make us the cool, hardcore ones?"

"Yeah, well, they don't exactly know about that." Sam said, glancing nervously up at the other two.

"Maybe we ought to tell them." Six grumbled, shoving her hands into her jacket. "Would maybe make them understand a thing or two . . ."

"Six," Sam said, smiling. "If you're honestly upset about being uncool, you shouldn't be. At least out of us three, you're definitely the coolest."

"Really?" Six asked, without much interest, but looking up all the same.

"By far." Sam said. "But, you're the leader Six."

"So?"

"So, you don't ask your boss to go clubbing with you."

"I'm not their boss." Six said, although she lingered over the word, as if considering the sound of it carefully. "They could even be older than me."

"You know what I mean." Sam said. "You're obviously in charge. You're the leader, and you're, uh, kind of scary."

At this, Six grinned. "Me? Scary?"

"Oh come on, it's not exactly a surprise." Sam said. "You've got the strongest powers, the most training, and we don't even know your name."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Six demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Scariness factor?" Sam pointed out. "Everyone else has actual names, but you're just _Six._" He said, spreading his hands out for dramatic effect. "You're all mysterious and dangerous, and just made amazing at everything."

Six looked away so that Sam wouldn't see her starting to smile. That kid. She liked being so cool that people were afraid of her. But she also like the having friends part of being cool.

"Jane." She said suddenly.

Sam turned to her. "Say what?"

"Jane." She repeated stoically, looking straight ahead. "That was the last name my cepan gave me."

As the initial shock wore off, Sam slowly began to smile. "Jane." He repeated, nodding. "You don't really seem like a plain Jane. No offense." He quickly added.

Six – Jane – nearly laughed. "I was never very good at the blending in."

"I'll bet." Sam said, grinning. "So, does this mean I'm allowed to call you Jane now?"

"Absolutely not." Six said. Sam sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "And you're not allowed to tell anyone either. I'm Six, got it?"

"Got it Jane."

Six glared at him.

"Don't worry, I'm joking." Sam said, putting his hands up. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"You'd better watch your step, human." She threatened, then shook her head. "If only you thought I was the scary one, then I'd be in good shape."

"Eh." Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. "All the supernatural stuff, the effect wears off after a while."

"What?"

"You know," Sam said, waving his hands around. "The mogs, the glowy rocks, the dog-rat-whatever thing, the powers – sorry – legacies, whatever. Every time you turn around, there's something new. It gets kind of old after a while." He told Six confidentially. "You know what would really surprise me right about now? A regular old couch potato. No, I mean it." He insisted, as Six raised an eyebrow. "Just some guy sitting on his butt watching tv all day – I'm starting to doubt I ever actually knew any. They must be an endangered species, seriously."

Six smiled. "I think that goes for all of us." She said.

"What? An endangered species? Maybe you guys, but –"

"No," She said, shaking her head. "Not that. Before. You explained why I wasn't cool here, but not why you guys weren't."

"Oh. Did I?" Sam said.

"Yeah." Six nodded. "But it's the same reason. You guys are leaders too."

Sam looked at Six for a long moment, and then started to grin. "You really think so?"

"Yes." Six nodded sharply. "And what I say goes."

"Ten-four." Sam said, giving her a mock salute. His eyes narrowed with a devilish grin. "Janie-oh."

"Sam!"

"What?"

* * *

"This is it." Ella said at last. "They're in there."

"There?" Six asked, scrunching up her nose. "That's not even a club!"

"Maybe they couldn't find a real club." Daniel suggested, surveying the other buildings nearby.

"Not surprising." Six snorted. "Let's go."

She straightened up and walked towards the front door. Her hand already on the handle, she turned around, realizing that none of them had followed her.

She stared at them. "Come on."

"I think I'll wait out here." Ella called back from across the street.

Six sighed. "Sam!" She barked out. "Come on!"

It took a few seconds, but soon there was the slap of feet against pavement, and Sam jogged through the door behind her.

"Me? For back up?" Sam groaned in Six's ear as she scanned the area for Tyler and a girl – whatever Teresa had decided to look like today.

"You weren't exactly my first choice either," Six hissed back. "But it's pointless to ask Daniel to go anywhere without Ella, so I didn't really have another option."

"There he is." Sam pointed across the room to where Tyler and a leggy blonde were sitting, drinks in hand. Six's face darkened dangerously and she stormed over, Sam following meekly behind.

"Tyler." Six stood, arms crossed, staring down disapprovingly at him.

Tyler looked up, grinning broadly. "Six!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide to welcome her. "Come to join us?"

Six didn't deign to answer. Sam gave a small wave. "Is this Teresa?" She asked, staring down the girl.

She giggled, and gave a wave. "Hi Six." Teresa said. "You like my hair?"

"Get up." Six said. "We're leaving." She didn't wait, turning around and walking back towards the door.

"Wait!" Tyler called out. "Don't you even want to get a drink?"

"I'm gonna need a lot more than alcohol to put up with you guys."

Six stormed out of the pub back towards Ella and Daniel, Tyler and Teresa tripping out, arms around one another, several yards behind her, and Sam bringing up the rear.

"Teresa?" Daniel asked as they approached.

Six nodded sharply.

"You guys missed out!" Teresa said.

"It was fun."

"A lot of fun."

"Well the fun's over now." Six said, arms crossed. "When did you last see John?"

"Before we left, earlier today." Teresa replied. "Or is it yesterday now? What time is it?"

"Only a bit past midnight, so yeah, technically yesterday." Sam said, consulting his watch.

"Nice eyes." Ella complimented, staring at Teresa. "Is that make up, or all you?"

"I never use make up." Teresa said, laughing.

Ella shook her head wistfully. "That is one awesome smoky eye. I don't suppose you can do other people?"

"Hold still." Teresa said, cupping her hands in front of Ella's face. "Only for a second – I can't keep it up if you move."

"Seriously?" Ella asked, grinning. "Do you have a mirror – I want to see!"

"If you're done," Six said in a dangerous tone, "Playing beauty salon, we do have another person to find."

"Right." Ella said, dropping her hands, subdued. "Sorry." Teresa was silent for the moment as well, but looked dangerously close to dissolving into giggles.

"Come on." Six said, turning around. "Next stop, Paradise."

* * *

John figured he could only count on an hour. It had taken some time to get to Paradise, but it would take just as long for Six and the others to get there – longer, in fact, since there were more of them. He could hope that Six going crazy when she found out he had left would slow things down to, but that was just a hope.

He hadn't wanted to make Six go crazy. He hadn't wanted to slow down their mission. He hadn't wanted to put all of the others in danger. But honestly, all of those had hardly even factored into the equation. Because there was something that trumped all of them, made them as insignificant as the gnats buzzing idly around his head.

Sarah.

Six had never been in love. So she couldn't have possibly understood how difficult it was to be away from her for so long, how much it hurt, physically hurt. How sometimes he was afraid he was forgetting what she looked like, the color of her hair, and then at others he could see her in perfect detail every time he closed his eyes, so perfect in fact he almost wished the image would go away, the taunting illusion that could never compare to the real thing. Almost. Except for that he treasured everything to do with her. Every moment they'd spent together, playing like a broken record over and over again in his head. He couldn't not think of her. Everything spoke of her – everything.

The Mogs were no deterrent, if anything they made him want to get there all the more. If there were Mogs, then Sarah needed him more than ever. He needed to protect her. How could he do that from miles away? He needed to be there for her. And he needed her by his side. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last without her.

How could anyone possibly understand what it was like to be separated from half of yourself, of your soul, without experiencing it?

Paradise didn't seem to have changed much since the last time John had been there, even though it had been a while. Three months, one week, and two days, to be precise. But this meant that he had no trouble whatsoever in locating Sarah's house.

He had this romantic idea, that he would throw rocks at her bedroom window, taking her by surprise. But then he got worried that he might break her window – it may have worked for the guys in eighties movies, but none of them had had super strength. He didn't want to start off their reunion by setting off their alarm system. But in remembering that he wasn't the average teenage boy, he got a better idea.

Difficult as it was to admit, practice really did make all the difference. He was pretty good with this lumien now, if he did say so himself. Standing beneath Sarah's window – of course he remembered which one was hers, how could he have forgotten? – he expertly manipulated the shining globe of light to slowly drift upward, like a tiny star, trapped at the Earth's surface, floating up to his Sarah.

Damn, was he a good boyfriend or what. Sending the heavens up to his girlfriend?

Or what. Definitely or what. Was that even a question? He didn't even deserve to be her boyfriend, disappearing on her like that. Putting her in danger. Abandoning her. And despite all that, coming back, begging for her, hoping she was still there for him.

Hoping? No. He knew. He couldn't doubt. He wouldn't doubt. She was the only girl out there for him. He knew she felt the same way.

Even though she was only human. Even though she wasn't bound by the same weird forces of soulmates that he was.

No. His head could doubt whatever else it wanted, but not Sarah. Never Sarah.

He'd trusted in her for so long, ten times the eternity he'd been away. He couldn't let the doubts win over now, just feet away from her. It was practically sacrilegious.

John stood, bathed in the light of the lumien, his very essence, hanging up above him, drifting ever nearer to his center, the reason for his very existence.

Sarah.


	9. Chapter 9

The windows flew open, and there was Sarah, her own light putting that of his lumien to shame. His memory of her hadn't done her justice. She was almost too beautiful to be real.

"John?"

Her whisper fell from her lips, slipping down towards the ground, towards him, John, and he heard it, clear, pristine, perfect, her voice striking notes no instrument could.

He was smiling. Something had clicked into place. As he realized, he also realized what it was – he was happy.

"Sarah!" he called back quietly. "It's me. I'm here."

"John!" She cried again, her entire face lighting up, eyes as bright as stars and smile blinding. In an instant she had the window all the way open and one knee on the sill. Just as quickly, John leaped up to the roof of the house to join her.

They practically flew into each other's arms, drawn to one another like magnets, but by an even stronger force. Sarah was simply repeating his name, over and over again. As for him, it was more than enough to simply be holding her again.

Sarah placed her hands on either side of Johns face. They were cool, soft, and smelled of her – of flowers and spring and sunlight. He cupped one of his own hands around hers, gazing steadily into the blue pools of her eyes.

"You're here." She whispered. "This is real. I'm not dreaming?"

"No." He answered. "This is completely real. I'm here."

Her smiled broke his heart. "I've missed you." She said next, tilting her head to blink back tears.

"Not possibly as much as I've missed you." He bowed his head, suddenly feeling unable to look at her, after all he'd done. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." Sarah said softly, embracing him.

In that small, silent moment, they could almost pretend it was all right. The moon hung over head, a gentle breeze flew by, fireflies flickered above the yard below, and, most importantly, they were together, simply breathing one another in.

But time couldn't freeze that moment. Sarah drew back "But what are you doing here? What happened? Is everything okay? Is it over?"

"No." John shook his head. "No. It's not over. But nothing's wrong either. I just," He shrugged, helplessly. "I just had to see you."

There is was again, that smile, and it seemed as though nothing on earth could possibly be more important.

"What about you?" he asked. "What's happened here?"

"Nothing much." Sarah said, shrugging. "I've been fine."

John just continued to stare at her. She laughed finally, shaking her head. "I've been bored out of my mind." She confessed frankly, eyes sparkling. "You know I always wanted to get out of Paradise, but ever since you left – it's been worse than ever. It just feels like there's nothing left for me here anymore, you know?"

John hesitated. "Actually, I've lived in thirty eight towns, and I've never wanted to stay in one more than Paradise."

Sarah grinned. "Maybe if you had stayed, I wouldn't mind staying so much either." Her face flushed an instant later as she realized the repercussions of her statement. "I'm sorry – I – I know what you're doing is really important. You can't be trapped here."

"Sometimes I wonder." John said grimly. "Believe me, most days I'd like nothing better."

"If only we could trade places."

"Somehow I doubt even then we'd be happy."

"We won't be happy until we're together." Sarah said, twining her fingers through his. John was struck by the truth of her words. This whole one-true-love thing made it a simple fact. His happiness was her.

"So anyway," Sarah went on. "You haven't run into anymore of, of them, have you?"

"The Mogs?" John asked absently. "Nah, not really. They aren't a problem."

"Good. I'm glad you've been safe. What have you been doing?"

"Tracking down the rest of us." John explained. "The Lorien. We've only got one more to go."

"That's great." Sarah said.

"But, come on." John said. "Evil aliens trying to destroy the world? That's boring stuff. What's been going on here? How's –" Well, after all, he was practically the only other person he knew here, "Mark?"

"Mark?" Sarah repeated. "He's, he's good. I think we've finally moved past that awkward stage, where we were trying to be friends, after having gone through so much. It's hard to get to know someone again when you feel like, well, you already do know them. But, yeah, everything's good with him." She brightened up, leaning in closer. "I got a new camera!"

"Really? That's awesome."

"Yeah, it's so much nicer than my old one. I mean, it was kind of expensive, but I really think it was worth it."

Conversation had always flowed easily between them, and so they lost themselves in everything they had stored up over the long past months, everything they had been dying to tell one another finally pouring out, all the incidents and funny stories and dreams and private thoughts, all the observances, all the worries and wishes mingling together under the starry sky, as they leaned against one another, hands, words, and thoughts all entwined.

* * *

Sarah loved John's smile. In her humble opinion, it was a facial expression vastly underused by him. So when his grin suddenly snapped off his face, she felt hers slide off as well.

His head turned with a jerk, staring at something off in the distance, something her lowly human eyes couldn't see. With a rush, the memories of those other awful aliens – the Mogs – came flooding back, and she could actually feel her heartbeat quickening.

"John?" She said hesitantly.

Instead of answering, he jerked his hand and the light that had been floating serenely above them extinguished immediately.

"Thank god you finally put that damn light out." A voice snapped from below. "It was probably attracting every Mog in the hemisphere."

John closed his eyes briefly, but his shoulders seemed to relax. Sarah cautiously took that as a good sign.

"Six." He called back down to the darkness. "What a surprise."

"I'm surprised to find myself in Paradise too. You know why John? Because we agreed we were heading to Mexico. Get down here. Now."

He heaved a sigh, turning to her as he rolled his eyes. "Sorry about this."

"Not at all." Sarah said, smiling. Personally, she was just relieved that they weren't going to try and kill her. "Are they the other Lorien?"

"Yeah." John answered. "Mind if we go down?"

Sarah shook her head, though she was fervently hoping her parents and all the neighbors would stay soundly asleep. She was about to turn to crawl back through her window, but suddenly John's arms were around her. For a terrifying moment she was whizzing through the air – then just as quickly it stopped, and they were brought to dizzying stillness, feet planted firmly on the ground.

Sarah straightened up slowly, her bare feet sinking into the wet grass. She was immensely grateful for John's arms still around her, feeling in need of a bit of protection at the moment. If nothing else in this world, she knew she could depend on John to protect her, from anything and everything.

With that knowledge, she turned to face them.

Her first thought was of her camera. They would have made the perfect picture. Framed by the trees, shadowy figures, yet still with distinguishable characteristics, their slight warpedness from the haze giving them an otherworldly feel.

It told a story, that photo, and those were the best kinds. They were the kinds that took Sarah's breath away for a second, as she realized once again the beauty in the world and remembered in a rush why she loved photography so

But of course, this wasn't a photo, this was her life.

There was Six, front and center, looking much the same as ever, arms crossed and eyes blazing. If it was even possible, she appeared even more powerful.

The pair standing a bit behind her, to the right, were strangers. It only made sense to assume these were more of the Lorien. The girl was small, with long dark hair. She made the guy appear even larger, or perhaps vis versa, he was a veritable giant towering over her. But they stood easy beside one another, as though comfortable in the knowledge that they belonged there.

On Six's other side was Sam. Sarah had to admit, it was good to see a familiar face. He seemed a bit out of place in the group, a bit shorter, younger, less polished, the dog hanging by his feet. But, although Sarah couldn't claim to a have known him that well before, he seemed – better. He stood straighter and looked, in a word, happy. Looking again, he seemed to fit in better there than he ever had in high school.

Lurking in the back of the group was another pair, another guy and girl. Arms linked, they were both swaying slightly, as though innately attuned to the gentle night breeze gusting around them. Admittedly, it wasn't easy to observe another blonde beauty, practically a super model. Were all Lorien insanely good-looking? The guy standing next to her could have walked off of a swimsuit shoot too. How were humans supposed to compete?

And there was one more, nearly fading into the background. A tall man, dark and completely motionless, his presence more imposing than his person.

John appeared to be having a stare off with this Six. He caved first, finally turning to look at Sarah.

"Everyone," he announced. "This is Sarah."

The name dropped like a heavy stone into the silence, and suddenly every eye was focused intensely on her. Her. The outsider.

She'd forgotten what it felt like to have so much attention. It wasn't at all appealing anymore.

"Hey Sarah." Sam said, waving a little awkwardly.

"Hi Sam." Sarah replied, not at all liking the way her voice came out, far too high and childlike, but immensely grateful to him.

"Sarah." Six said, arms still determinedly crossed, and appearing to resent every word. "Hello."

"Hi," She pretended to be a bit unsure of Six's name, "Si – Six.", so as not to appear creepy for instantly remembering, although really, how could she not have remembered the name of the mysterious, gorgeous girl who had whisked her boyfriend off on an adventure?

"Hi Sarah!" The blond from the back called out, waving up at her, and giggling some more.

"Uh, hi." Sarah replied, giving a little wave of her own in an attempt to be polite.

This girl tripped her way up to the front, past the others to reach Sarah. She walked as if on a tightrope, swaying and sweeping form side to side, but somehow not falling flat on her face. Sarah noted with mild discomfort how underdressed she felt next to this girl, in her heels and skirt. Short skirt.

She grinned widely at Sarah. Even her teeth were white and straight – perfect.

"Sarah," John's voice came begrudgingly from behind her. "This is Teresa."

Teresa laughed. Then suddenly, she wasn't Teresa anymore. She was Sarah. Sarah's mouth dropped open, and she stumbled backwards. What was this? She'd thought she'd been prepared for the weird stuff that happened around John – the Lorien stuff, her mind thought wildly, hectically attempting to process this. It was like looking into a mirror – except this image of her was clapping her hands gleefully.

As the reflection, doppelganger, twin, whatever, didn't go away, Sarah slowly got over the initial shock, and brief fear.

"What –"

"Teresa." John's voice was flat, emotionless. "Change back."

Teresa-Sarah frowned. "But she's so pretty!"

"Is it just me," Sam muttered, staring warily at her, "Or is Teresa getting more drunk?"

"Human alcohol works differently on Lorien." Six answered flatly. "It's a little too strong for us. Teresa," she snapped. "Change back to yourself. Now."

"No! I want to be, . . ." Teresa-Sarah swirled herself around in a circle several times, finally ending with her finger pointed at Six, a wide grin plastered across her face. "You!"

And so it was. Sarah's eyes widened even further, if that was possible. Six, the real Six, did not appear amused. Teresa-Six, on the other hand, was ecstatic.

"Look!" she cried out. "Look!"

"I don't see how you weren't found by Mogs before now." Six deadpanned. "I think I'd like you much better with red hair."

Teresa happily complied, changing her nose and growing taller for good measure, as she stumbled further back into the group.

"John." Six said, returning her attention to him. "Come on. Say goodbye. We're leaving."

"Not yet." John said steely.

Six glared at him with a look that could have stopped a bullet in its tracks. "What?"

"I'll leave when I'm ready. Not yet."

"You're ready now. Come on, we're going."

"I said no."

"I don't care what you said, you've already brought us off track, delayed us, and put us and Sarah in danger. We're leaving."

"No."

"John," Sarah started. She knew that at least the last part of Six's statement was untrue, with John was the only time when Sarah wasn't in danger. But as for the rest . . . it would basically all be her fault, since the only reason John had come back was for her. "If you need to leave now,"

"We don't." John said firmly. "Six, we all know you're exaggerating. You guys can go ahead if you want. I'll catch up."

"How, exactly, will you catch up?" Six asked. "How will you know where we are? How will we know you didn't get sidetracked, or attacked, or killed? How will you know you aren't mistakenly walking straight to the Mogs?"

"You're doing it again Six. The exaggerating."

"Am I? Or are you too love struck to see the truth!"

"Um, guys," It was difficult to speak up, especially considering she was the outsider here, but Sarah couldn't have a supernatural fight break out on her front lawn. "Maybe – maybe you guys could just all stay here for an hour or –" the look on Six's face made Sarah quickly rethink her timeframe, "an hour more?" She waited, breath bated, for the reaction.

John turned stoically to look at Six. "What do you think Six? Can you spare an hour?"

Six's face gave a very clear answer, but she spat out "Forty-five minutes."

"Great!" Sarah exclaimed, a bit surprised that her idea had actually worked. "Um . . . I guess . . . do you guys want to, to come inside?" Even as she extended the invitation, she could see her parents' expression if they woke up to a group of alien strangers in their kitchen.

"Fine." Six said sharply.

"Thanks." Sam added, glancing at Six. She made a slight face, but nodded.

"Okay," Sarah said, quickly walking over to the door. It was locked, but all you had to do was jiggle it the right way to get it to pop open. That might make a good excuse if her parents found out . . . it was that damn door they'd never fixed . . .

John stood by her side as the others filed in. "Of course, Six had to bargain, to feel like she was in control." He muttered, more to himself than to her.

"Oh come on," she said back, quietly. "It's practically the same thing. It's not like she's going to be counting the minutes."

John scoffed at this. "You don't know Six."

It was weird having all these people in her kitchen, especially in the dark of night. Almost like this was all just a dream.

They didn't seem particularly strange or other-worldly though. They simply stood there, leaning against the walls and counters, silent. The Teresa girl had collapsed into a chair.

And, frankly, it was becoming rather awkward. With all of them here, she and John were obviously going to be unable to continue their private rendezvous. So now what?

"Uh, can I get you guys anything?" Sarah asked, feeling extremely stupid.

"Yes." The large man responded promptly, his voice deep and resounding. "Please, we would appreciate two large glasses of water, if it would not be too much trouble."

"Of course." Sarah said, quickly moving to comply. It was kind of strange, him being the only adult there. It made him almost as much of an outsider as herself. However, it was his air of omnipotence that made the impression on her, and that was one trait they definitely didn't share.

"Here you go." She said, placing them in front of him.

"Thank you very much." He said gravely, picking them up and placing one in front of both the Teresa girl and that other Lorien boy.

"Drink." Neither of them argued.

There was silence for a while. The clink of the glass settling back onto the table could have well been a car slamming into the house. Then it was the clock. The tick tock tick tock seemed to force its rhythm upon them. Sarah hadn't even realized they had a clock in this room. Teresa's hair seemed to be fading in color by the second, although that could have just been her imagination. Then again, maybe not. You could never really tell with this group.

"Thanks for inviting us in," The brunette girl said quietly, shattering the silence. The tall guy was still right next to her, like a shadow. "You have a really nice house."

"Thanks." Sarah said, smiling. This was awkward. So awkward. Yes, she valued every second spent with John, but honestly . . . sacrilegious as it was . . . it almost wasn't worth it.

Then suddenly, her hand was enveloped with his. She glanced up, and he smiled back at her, squeezing her hand. The warmth flooded through her entire body, and suddenly she was smiling too. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but John being here with her. Who cared if there were all these other people here, if they couldn't kiss or share their deepest secrets. They were together. And that made everything all right.

"As long as we're stuck here," Six said, "We may as well work on our game plan. Especially now that we've been thrown off course."

She threw another glare at John, which he ignored. The others mumbled and shuffled a bit, but Six, unperturbed, began with the planning.

Sarah sat down on the bench, pulling John down with her, and leaned against him. Planning some sort of route to Mexico couldn't be all that boring, not when John had apparently run across an entire state just to be here, by her side.


	10. Chapter 10

Trekking out into the darkness in the middle of the night, out of the nice, comfortable kitchen, wasn't much fun for anyone. Especially not with Six growling and muttering about how they were losing time and how she didn't like the new hotel she herself had picked out. Especially not with John tripping over his own feet, mooning and constantly peering back over his shoulder. And especially not with a hangover.

Tyler had never really drunken before – truthfully, he'd never had much of a chance. Sure, he'd had alcohol before, but he'd never had the experience of getting raging, rip-roaring, dead drunk. He hadn't been aiming to tonight either, he'd actually thought he'd been pretty moderate.

His piercing headache begged to differ.

The rest of the night was a blur, one of tramping by the roadside in their seemingly endless quest for somewhere to spend the night. Tyler felt ready to strangle Six every time they past yet another motel she wouldn't let them stay at.

Finally, they reached the hotel, taking forever at the front desk, having to use real cash since Teresa seemed still too tipsy to reliably copy money, but at last reached the actual rooms – with actual beds – upon which Tyler promptly flopped.

He heard Patrick walk in as well and close the door, each movement like a thunderclap. Of course he normally had enhanced hearing, but this, this was like it was magnified by ten through a top notch stereo. He buried his head in a pillow in an attempt to make the throbbing stop.

"Tyler?"

That was him. That was his name. Unfortunately.

"Yes?" came back his muffled voice. Normally dialogue with Patrick was conducted formally, respectfully. But at the moment, Tyler wasn't in shape for any dialogue, let alone a respectful one.

"Sit up."

Tyler groaned. "I can't." He wasn't trying to be difficult, much. He honestly didn't feel capable of sitting up, or doing much of anything besides lying there in misery.

But Patrick didn't reply, simply waiting. That was the thing about Patrick. He could wait till the end of the world, he had ounces more patience than even the most stubborn Tyler. So Tyler sat up. He felt like crap. Which, really, wasn't any worse than he'd felt lying down.

"We need to talk Tyler." Patrick said gravely.

Tyler closed his eyes for a second. He should have guessed this was coming.

"You're in no shape for a fight."

"I'll be okay in the morning."

"You will be. But if the Mogs attacked right now, you would lose."

Tyler knew Patrick was right. He always was. It was pointless to try to defend himself. "I don't think the Mogs are going to attack tonight."

"You always have to be prepared."

"I don't think one night of fun – not even a whole night, a few hours – are going to kill me."

"One second is all it takes."

"Well, if it ever got to that, you would protect me." It was a fact that Tyler didn't even want to admit. He liked to believe that he was self-reliant, independent. But he supposed he'd already lost that case.

"I won't always be here. You have to learn. You have to be ready. And you have to watch out for the others."

"The others?" Tyler asked, raising his head to make eye-contact. The rest he had been expecting. The rest he already knew.

"Teresa's not trained. You know that. You're responsible for her. And tonight, you would not have been able to protect her."

The danger himself he could scoff off, argue away. But putting the others in danger – that thought was a bit more sobering.

"I'm sorry." Tyler admitted at last. "I screwed up. I wasn't thinking."

"You must be more careful in the future." Patrick intoned. "Second chances are a luxury not often given."

"I know. I'll be more careful."

He could hardly fathom the situation Tyler had described. All his life he had been the one the Mogs wanted, the one who needed to be protected. Now suddenly there were others.

Tyler told himself that he would have been horrified at his irresponsibility if it had been any of the others. But . . . it hadn't been just any of them.

"Patrick?" Tyler said hesitantly. Patrick raised his head, meeting Tyler's gaze. "How does . . . imprinting . . . do you, know, right away?" Tyler carefully asked.

Patrick stared off thoughtfully for a few seconds. "There are many varying views on imprinting." He said at last. "Some scorn its very existence. But the traditional view is that imprinting is absolute, certain, a single person for life."

That was one of the many great aspects of Patrick. When someone screwed up, Patrick would have his say, and, if the person was reasonable about it, move on, practically instantly. No hard feelings. No grudges. It wasn't his type, and it was something Tyler couldn't have appreciated more.

"So, does it happen instantly?" Tyler prodded further. "Like you imprint as soon as you see them?"

"It depends on who you ask." Patrick replied. "Some say it is instantaneous. Others believe that, on some level, the imprinting is immediate, but that it may take time for the consciousness to come to the realization."

"What about you?" Tyler asked. He didn't really care about all the other schools of thought. It was his opinion he wanted. "Did you ever imprint?"

"Yes." Patrick said simply.

Tyler stared at this man before him. He'd never known. It'd never come up before. "Who was she?"

"Monica." Patrick said. He paused. "She is dead."

Of course she was dead. Everyone was dead. How could he have been so stupid?

"I'm sorry." Tyler said sincerely, wishing he could show it better.

"You have no need to be." Patrick said. "I doubt you ever even met her."

"I would have liked to."

This prodded a smile out of Patrick. "She would have liked that too, I am sure."

"Do you . . . do you mind talking about it?" Tyler asked hesitantly. Patrick shook his head. "Was it in the war? With the Mogs? That she died?"

Patrick shook his head again. "No, not then. She was a warrior, a cepan, as I was. That was the last time I saw her though, when we were fighting. But it was the Mogs who killed her. She died some years later, on a different planet, guarding her child of the garde."

"Oh." Tyler responded. It was rare, if ever, that their life pre-Earth came up, strange to talk about now, but not necessarily in a bad way. "They – they told you?"

"No." Patrick responded simply. "I knew."

Tyler's eyebrows drew together. "How?"

"She was my other half." Patrick explained patiently. "When a part of your soul disappears, you know."

"So, you knew." Tyler said slowly. "Always? Right away?"

Patrick smiled, indulging him. "Perhaps not the very first moment. But it did not take long, and, yes, I felt affection for her from the start." Tyler nodded slowly, and Patrick regarded him thoughtfully. "Is there a reason for this sudden interest?"

Tyler instantly flushed. "No, not really. Just wondering." Patrick nodded, remaining silent. It only took a few moments for Tyler to break. "It's just – I mean, I was wondering how I would tell, if I would know, if I'd imprinted on someone."

"Someone in particular?" Patrick prodded, apparently requiring all his long years of training to hold back a smile.

"No." Tyler insisted. "I was just wondering, if I did imprint on someone, which I haven't, well, I don't think, because I don't know how I would know if I had."

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Well . . . there is only one specific person you will ever imprint upon. That will never change. How long it takes for you to realize it depends on you."

"Okay." Tyler muttered to his feet. "Not that I think I've imprinted. Not really." He glanced up briefly, another question dawning on him. "Does the other person always imprint back at the same time?"

"Almost always." Patrick replied, walking over to his bed.

"Almost?" Tyler squeaked back, staring at him anxiously.

"Yes. Almost." Patrick answered. He turned back, smiling at Tyler. "Don't worry. Even with you both dead drunk, Teresa still seemed quite taken with you."

* * *

Teresa rocked her head back and forth slowly, staring at the hard wood table.

"Come on," Ella was saying. "Six brought coffee. At least have some cereal or something. You'll feel better."

"My stomach's fine." Teresa responded. Six snorted. "It's my head that's bothering me."

"You want some advil?"

"No." Teresa shook her head some more. "Not that way . . ." She sighed, crumpling her face in her hands. "I just feel so stupid! What was I thinking last night!"

Six made another derisive comment in the background, which Teresa ignored and Ella politely refrained from laughing.

"Oh come on." She said instead. "It wasn't that bad."

"Ella, seriously, were you there?" Six asked, rolling her eyes and joining them around the table. "She was like a Barbie doll for hours afterwards."

"Barbie may not be great, but it isn't that bad, all things considered."

"Tyler must think I'm an idiot." Teresa mumbled, conversing with the table instead of the other girls.

"No he doesn't." Ella said consolingly.

"He was just as stupid as you last night." Six said.

"Not the best with the bedside manner, Six." Teresa grumbled.

"If you hadn't run off last night, you wouldn't need a bedside manner." Six pointed out under her breath.

"I know you feel like crap now," Ella said. Teresa moaned in acknowledgment. "But you had a good time last night, right? Doesn't that make up for it?"

"The pain I can deal with." Teresa said moodily. "But I made a fool of myself last night, in front of Tyler."

"I'm sure he doesn't think that." Ella soothed. "He's probably feeling the same as you – wondering how stupid you think he is."

"Besides, he probably doesn't even remember half of it." Six put in. "He was drunk too."

"That's true." Teresa perked up slightly. "Although," She twisted around in her chair, pulling her knees up. "There are _some _things I hope he didn't forget."

They both stared at her, waiting for elaboration, Ella's eyebrows raised and Six's eyes slanted.

"Like what?" Six demanded.

"Well," Teresa smiled slyly. "I finally had the excuse of being drunk to change into Heidi Klum in front of him. I've been dying to do that for ages."

Ella appeared torn between laughing and rolling her eyes. Six gave a wry grin. "Of course. Other girls look like crap when they're drunk – you look like a supermodel."

Teresa's smile only grew. "One of the many perks of being me."

* * *

They were taking a break. Six was begrudging them absolutely every second of it; claiming that they ought to have simply pushed on all day, considering all the time they'd lost last night. But, they'd made good time today, were on track to reach the New Mexico border by nightfall, and it was mid-afternoon on a bright sunny day in a beautiful, deserted park. She'd been outnumbered – the only one in favor of continuing. So they were resting.

But even resting, their group was far from unproductive. Teresa and Tyler were training. And Ella was sitting with Sam, their hands lying on a bench, fingers interspersed. Both were staring at them intently. Six ambled up to them, stretching out beside them.

"So." She inquired. "Anything interesting?"

"Her microscopic vision goes practically infinitely." Sam explained eagerly.

"Not quite." Ella murmured, her eyes not stirring form their fingers.

"I've been trying to draw what she's describing," Sam brandished a sheet of paper at her, covered in lines and squiggles and arrows and small cramped writing. "And your cells seem to be pretty similar to human cells," Now a phone with some weird, biology diagram was being thrust in her face. "But, it's kind of hard to understand what it looks like, without being able to actually see it."

"Let me see what you have again." Ella said, finally breaking eye contact. She studied the sheet of paper just as intently. "Now these things," she tapped a spot. "They're a bit smaller than what you have drawn. I can tell you what they look like on the inside." Her gaze snapped back to their fingers.

"The mitochondria?" Sam inquired, also staring at the paper.

"As far as I can tell. They look the most like what I think is the mitochondria in your cells."

"That's interesting." Sam commented. "I would have thought they'd be bigger, if anything."

"Fascinating." Six muttered. She took out her knife.

"Just telling you what I see." Ella said blithely. "You should talk to Daniel or Patrick. I don't know if they took much biology back on Lorien, or if they remember any, but they might know something

"Yeah, I will." Sam said, completely absorbed in his sketch. "There. That closer?"

Ella tore her eyes away for a quick glance at the paper. "Yeah. They aren't all the same color though – some of them are blue, but some of them are more greenish, and some more yellow."

"Okay," Sam said, scribbling the information down.

"Making a science project?" Six asked.

"Something like that." Sam answered, his attention hardly wavering.

"How's John doing?" Ella asked suddenly.

Sam shrugged. "Lovesick. He'll live, though."

Six snorted. "Maybe he'd get over it faster if he got up off his ass and started training like the rest of us."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You aren't exactly training right now either, Six."

Six narrowed her eyes. "Well neither are you, human, so you can't talk."

"Oh come on, you don't honestly think I could train with you guys."

"Of course you could. If you had the guts."

"I have the guts." Sam said defensively. "It's just ridiculous for me, when you guys all have superpowers and I –"

"Think you can get by with a gun and some video game skills?" Six asked, smirking.

"Don't." Sam finished. "And you thought it was pretty cool the first time I did it."

"Because that was the first time I'd ever seen a human stand up to a Mog." Six retorted. "And, yes, I maintain that it was impressive. But that'll wear off pretty fast if you don't train. You need it just as much as the rest of us."

Sam eyed her cautiously, waiting for a hint of laughter, but nothing came. "I don't know how to start, I can't fight."

Six popped up to a standing position and extended a hand. "I'll show you." She said simply.

Sam glanced at his papers. "They'll still be there when you're done." Six said exasperatedly. "You don't mind, do you Ella?"

"Not at all." She responded, pulling her hands away to rub her eyes with her knuckles. "You gotta train."

"Alright." Sam said, taking her hand. "Then what now?"

"We run laps."

Sam stared at her. "Seriously?"

"You made it pretty clear that we have to start at the beginning."

"But . . . running? Isn't that what cars is for? Couldn't we do something cooler?"

"You want to train or not?"

"Well . . ."

"Get moving!"

"Okay, okay!"

They ran off, still bickering, and Ella leaned back, her eyes readjusting to the normal scale of things. Daniel walked up behind her, completely silent.

"Hey." Ella said, not looking up.

"Hey." Daniel replied, taking Sam's seat. "You alright?"

"Fine." Ella replied, turning to him with wide eyes. "You?"

Daniel groaned quietly, rolling his eyes. "Of course. What's with the twitching?"

Ella sighed, rolling her shoulders and glancing over to the rim of the park, where the forest began. "It's probably nothing." Daniel waited. "I just keep sensing something – someone. A Lorien, I'm pretty sure, but someone I don't know."

"Where are they now?" Daniel asked, tensed.

"They aren't here anymore." Ella said. "At least I don't feel them."

"Did you feel where they went?"

"That's the thing . . ." Ella said slowly. "It's weird . . . I felt them, for a little while, and then it was just – gone. I don't know, maybe I'm going crazy."

"Not likely." Daniel said, watching her. "How long were they there?"

"Only a minute or two. But it happened three times – but once was only for a couple seconds, I might have been imagining it."

"Or not. You're sure they were Lorien?"

"Pretty sure."

"Not Mogs?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you want to tell the others?"

"No." Ella shook her head. "They'll just think I'm crazy."

"Ella, you're not crazy." Daniel said vehemently. "This is just the way your legacies work."

"I know." She said. "But still – I don't even know for sure. And after that whole thing with Teresa, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't trust me."

"But you were right about that whole thing with Teresa." Daniel pointed out.

"I know." Ella said again. "But, what I'm telling them is pretty weird, and they don't have anything but my word to go on."

"Your word should be good enough for them." Daniel insisted. "Six would listen to you."

"Maybe." Ella looked back towards the woods again. "But I'm not even confident in this – I can't expect them to be."

"Fair enough." Daniel said after a minute. "But you'll tell me if you sense anything strange again, right?" Ella nodded. "And be careful."

"Always am." Ella said lightly.

"I'm serious here. Extra careful."

"Yes, extra careful." Ella pacified. "And you will too, right?"

"Try my best."


	11. Chapter 11

A new day. A new place. Another step closer to Mexico, another step closer to Number Nine, another step closer to their final goal. Another day of training.

Six and Daniel were occupying one another, difficult to say which one was more intensely focused. They'd come up with a complex set of rules for their sparring matches, that no one but themselves understood, different sets, some fought with their bare hands, others with full legacies and knives, and a convoluted point awarding system, the aim to 'kill' one another. That could easily keep them busy all day.

Ella had taken on Teresa's training for the day. She was an adequate fighter, and her shape-shifting worked clearly to her benefit in fights. But, in the group of super-hero super-fighters, she was still clearly the weak link.

But with Teresa preoccupied, that left Tyler free to spar – something John was finally prepared for. He'd fought and clawed his way through endless training sessions, and this was the final test.

Tyler didn't seem nearly as stressed as he did, cracking his knuckles as he leisurely warmed up. "Legacies or no?" He called across to John.

"Your call." John called back.

Tyler shrugged. "Why not go all out, then?"

"Sounds good to me." Okay. Given time, use it to analyze opponent. Patrick had been the one to drum that into his head. Tyler was slightly bigger than he was, which meant slightly more muscle. He would be able to fly, which would also lend to his strength. John wouldn't be able to counter much of that through his telekinesis, considering the lack of surrounding material to launch at him, but at least the lumien could give him the element of surprise.

"Ready?" Tyler called out.

Don't go on impulse. The head was as important as the body in a fight.

"Ready." He answered.

And it began.

Tyler took to the air. He had been prepared for that. Saving his lumien, he instead sent up clods of dirt to block his vision, lunging forward at the same time so as to use it to its full advantage.

Tyler flipped out of the way, but he was back on the ground.

Think on his feet. John leaped towards him, forcing any nearby, unstable object towards him.

Punches, one two. Two and a half. Ignore the blows that made it to his skin, his injuries could wait until afterwards.

They whirled apart, then back together, Tyler jumping higher, but not quite resorting to flight.

John forced the thoughts of how he was doing out to another part of his mind – those would only worry him now, they were of no use to him in winning. He could think of that later.

More punches. Kicks. He was creating a veritable tornado of various objects around Tyler, of which he was quickly losing control, but that was okay, they were serving as brute force at the moment, not any delicate machination.

It was when he was just beginning to tire that he knew it was time. John put his complete concentration into the lumien: and it was blinding.

Tyler fell back to the surface, and John pounced, the opportunity he had been waiting for.

"Match." John said, looming over Tyler.

Tyler looked up at him, gingerly propping himself up on his elbows. "Match." He agreed, smiling.

He extended a hand, and John gladly pulled him up, starting to smile as well as the relief suddenly flooded through him.

He had done it. He had won a sparring match.

* * *

"Alright you guys." Six said. "New Mexico. We finally made it."

"That was what that border was?" Sam asked wearily.

"Come on, Sam." John said, clapping him on the shoulder, unusually cheerful. "This is great! We made it!"

"Yes, lovely." Sam muttered. "Made it to the state of the desert! Only to leave it for the real Mexico, with even more desert!"

"There's a lot more than just desert," Teresa said.

"Not that we'll be seeing." Six said briefly, and both Sam and Teresa's faces deflated. "We'll be keeping an especially low profile in this state, considering it's home to the conspiracy theories and alien seekers."

"See Sam." John elbowed him. "They're your people."

"Ha ha." Sam muttered. "Very witty."

"Maybe we should camp our first night." Tyler suggested.

"Camp?" Ella repeated blandly. Patrick didn't even seem particularly enthused.

"All we do is camp." Teresa said morosely.

But naturally, Six took to the idea inducing the most discomfort. "Great idea." She said approvingly. "It'll be good to keep out of the way of towns and cities."

"I was just thinking, we'd probably only run into hikers and other campers then . . ." Tyler said, trying to appease the others. "And they wouldn't think we're so weird."

The others grumbled their assent.

"But if we're camping," Teresa spoke up. "Shouldn't we get a camper?"

"I'd be down with that." Sam agreed.

"Don't be ridiculous." Six sighed. "What would we do with it after tonight? Besides, it's probably hard to buy, you'd need ID and stuff."

"I've got it." Teresa said, waving a hand and coming up with a small plastic card.

Six shook her head.

"Tents, at least?" Teresa asked. "Everybody has tents."

"Tents wouldn't be a bad idea." Tyler said. "I mean, that would probably make us blend in more too. And it'd be more comfortable."

"You guys want to carry them?" Six asked.

"We could sell them back." Ella suggested.

But Six wasn't budging, despite their many persuasive arguments. They did, however, eventually wear her down to accepting sleeping bags, which, as dusk fell, they arranged in a circle around a fire pit.

For all it was a desert, it had a strange, surreal beauty, particularly as the sky turned a soft purple, with stars glittering in between. The land was flat enough to make them feel as though the sky was a blanket covering them.

The fire soon became their main source of light. Daniel knelt down, adding more pitch to it, as Tyler rummaged in one of the bags for some hot dogs to toast over it.

"Grehtovin!" Daniel shouted, leaping back from the fire and cradling his hand.

"Daniel!" Patrick revoked, his head jerking towards him.

Daniel bit his lip. "Sorry." He muttered.

John just stared from one to the other, wondering what, exactly, he was missing out on.

The others seemed to be wondering the same thing too. "What was that?" Tyler asked.

Daniel didn't offer an answer, and Patrick simply said "Nothing.", still giving Daniel a dark look.

"What does 'grehtovin' mean?" Teresa asked.

"Don't say that!" Patrick said sharply.

"Sorry," Teresa said, her eyebrows drawing together. "Why is it so bad to say it?"

"Is it a curse word?" Six asked, her eyes shrewdly flickering between the two.

"That is definitely not a curse word." Teresa said flatly. "I've never heard of it before."

"Six is correct." Patrick said stiffly, reluctantly. "It is a curse word – in Lorien."

"You can curse in Lorien?" Sam asked, eyes glittering, turning to Daniel with a new found respect. Tyler had awe in his eyes as well, but quickly disguised it as he noticed Patrick watching him.

"I am fluent." Daniel pointed out.

"Everyone curses in their native language." Teresa said sagely. "Unless they're trying to sound classy, or not show that they're cursing. It's a reflex."

"Will you teach us?" Six asked.

"He will not." Patrick answered. "Such language should not be used, least of all by a cepan.

"Or the garde." He quickly added.

Daniel nodded sullenly in agreement.

Six didn't look too perturbed, to the contrary, her expression suggested that Christmas had come early.

Eventually they settled down, Patrick appearing to have either forgotten or forgiven Daniel's transgression.

"So," Sam said as the arranged themselves in a lopsided circle, propped up on the poofiness of the sleeping bags. "Anyone know any ghost stories?"

"Dude, we're pretty much a ghost story." John pointed out.

"Urban legend." Teresa suggested.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "What she said. Urban legend. Ghost stories have dead people in them."

"You know," Tyler added helpfully. "Haunted houses. Abandoned. Full moon. Group of kids goes in after dark, by themselves, lost."

Sam grinned, quickly adding on. "The wind howls outside. The electricity goes out. One of them goes to open the basement door . . ."

Ella sat bolt upright.

"Whoah," Sam laughed. "Didn't mean to scar –"

"Daniel!" She said, in a high voice. "They're back."

Daniel jumped to his feet in one movement. The others fell silent.

"They're coming closer." Ella continued, her eyes wide. "I don't think they're leaving."

"Which direction?" Daniel demanded. She pointed off to her right.

"Who's coming?" Six asked, pulling her knife out.

"I – don't know." Ella said. "But they're not human."

"Mogadorians?" Patrick asked, steadily scanning the horizon.

"I can't tell for sure." Ella admitted.

They were all standing now, tense and alert, in a wary semi-circle.

"They know we're here." Ella said quietly, her voice floating, whisper-like, to each of them, lightly carrying a gigantic burden. "They're headed straight for us."

"How far?" John asked.

Ella shook her head, eyebrows drawn. "I don't know. Not far."

Bernie snuffled , running around in a circle several times, but remained a dog.

"Should we put out the fire?" Daniel asked quietly to Patrick.

"No." He replied, his tone equally hushed. "If it is the Mogadorians, the light will be more of an advantage to us than it will to them."

"You don't think we could hide?"

"Not if they already know where we are, and are as close as Ella says."

"What about John?"

John's back straightened.

"Teresa," Patrick said swiftly. "Can you disguise John?"

Teresa's eyes were wide, as they flickered between the members of the group. "I – I,"

"Make him look different Teresa." Six snapped. "You can do that."

Teresa nodded several times, the color appearing to leak out of her hair as it changed from dark black to a straw brown. She walked up to John, placing her hands on either side of his face, and closed her eyes. His skin rippled, flashing different colors and patterns, features disappearing and strange images taking their place.

"They track by scent." Daniel said quietly. "Changing his appearance won't fool them."

"I know." Patrick said. "But it may confuse them, buy us a little time. That's the most we can ask for now."

A few seconds passed, then John simply wasn't there. All that was where he had been standing was a purplish haze, like the smoke of their campfire. They stared, and suddenly a hand appeared, then a whole arm flickered back into visibility. Teresa instantly reached out a hand, and it disappeared again.

"Don't move." She instructed him. "It makes it harder to keep up the illusion."

"Perhaps Ella should shield them as well." Patrick said, turning to her. She nodded, and there was soon another bluish haze blocking the two of them from sight.

"Put yourself under that too." Daniel said, nodding at it, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon.

Ella stared at him, her eyebrows drawing together. "No." she stated incredulously.

Daniel's head turned to look at her, and she stared back.

"Sam." Six said tersely, turning her knife over and over in her hands. "Try to keep out of the way. Don't appear aggressive – they might mistake you for a threat and target you."

"I plan on being a threat." Sam said grimly.

"Don't be stupid." Six said. "We don't have guns or bazookas or anything this time around. You're human, Sam."

"I'm aware." He snapped.

"Wait." Ella said.

"There they are." Tyler said, nodding slightly towards the shadowy figure that was gradually becoming more defined.

"What?" Six asked, her eyes fixed on the – thing – slowly coming closer.

"It," Ella said hesitantly. "I'm not sure if it's a Mog."

"We know." Six said. "Why? Is it Nine?"

"No." Ella said, staring at it. "And it's not human either,"

"It looks human." Tyler said.

"I don't know what it is." She finished.

"We'll ask questions after we eliminate the threat." Patrick said firmly.

"Agreed." Six said.

Daniel's eyes narrowed. ". . . They're . . . putting their hands up."

"But they aren't empty." Patrick shrewdly noted.

"Should we attack?" Tyler asked, shifting from foot to foot. "Or do we wait for them to get to us?"

But Patrick's attention had been diverted by something else. "Ella." He said. "Can you see what it is they're holding?"

Ella stared. "It looks like a knife." She answered. "Like yours."

"They could have stolen it." Daniel said immediately.

"A knife?" Tyler asked. "A cepan knife? Then what if they didn't steal it? It could be Teresa's cepan."

"Or it could be a trap." Six said, her eyes narrowing.

Patrick took a step forward, ignoring them, and let out a cry in a strange language, full of gargled r's and s's. The silence settled densely back over them.

"What was that?" Sam asked in a hushed voice.

Before anyone could answer, a responding cry came echoing back, in an equally strange language.

Patrick nodded to himself. "It's Netoya." He told them. "She's Lorien. A cepan. Nine's cepan."

"What?" Six asked, staring at the person, approaching even faster. "How do you know?"

"She told me."

"How do you know it's not a Mog in disguise?"

"I've never heard a Mog speak Lorien at all. Let alone fluently without an accent."

Six just continued to glare grimly ahead at the supposed cepan, now maybe a hundred yards away, now eighty. She was short, for a warrior. Fifty yards. They could all see her easily now. She certainly looked nothing like a Mog. Twenty. Then she was right in front of them.

She nodded curtly, feet firmly planted on the ground. "Greetings." She said. "I am Netoya Willis. The cepan of Number Nine."

Patrick inclined his head in response. "Greetings,"

"Wait." Six cut in, crossing her arms. "Prove it."

Netoya's head whipped to face her. "Prove it?" She repeated stonily.

"Yes." Six said. "Prove you're not a Mog."

"I'm not trying to kill you." She said frostily. "That should be proof enough."

"It's true, Mogs aren't big on the subterfuge." Tyler pointed out. Six made no response.

"It's true." Ella this time said, dropping the shield around Teresa and John. "She's telling the truth, about who she is. I think."

"Yes." Netoya clearly enunciated. "I would not lie."

At this, Six finally uncrossed her arms, looking away as she shoved her knife away. John realized that Teresa had also stopped the illusion – once again, he was himself.

"Greetings," Patrick picked up again. "I am Patrick Agefar. The cepan of Number Five." He gestured at Tyler. "This is Number Five." Tyler nodded. Patrick continued with the introductions.

"This is Number Four." John too nodded. Netoya's face betrayed no reaction.

"This is Number Six." Neither Six nor Netoya moved a muscle.

"This is Number Seven." Ella nodded slightly.

"This is Daniel," Patrick hesitated for the briefest of seconds, "A cepan." Daniel's hands were folded behind his back, he stared straight ahead.

"This is Number Eight." Teresa stared warily, and jerked her head in acknowledgment.

"It is a privilege to meet you." Netoya said, bowing her head. "I had heard that the Lorien were gathering, and it is my aim to join with you, and help you in your struggle against the Mogadorian race, to return to Lorien."

"We would be honored to have your assistance." Patrick said. The group's expressions did not exactly mirror those sentiments. "We are on our way to find Number Nine."

"Yes." Six interrupted, finally speaking. "You've met all of us. Now let us see them."

"I would, but that is impossible." Netoya said. Six opened her mouth to argue. "Number Nine is dead."

"What? How could he be dead?" Teresa asked, her voice becoming shriller. "I thought they couldn't kill us out of order!"

"They can't." Six said.

"Then why didn't we get another scar?" John questioned quietly.

"Because," Netoya answered. "He was not killed by the Mogadorians. He simply died."

"We are all sorry for his death." Patrick said gravely. "Could you tell us what happened?"

Netoya obligingly inclined her head. "He became sick." She said shortly. "It appeared to be a hybrid of a Lorien and Earth disease. I tried everything within my power. As did the best doctors on the planet. But he left us. This was about a bit less than a year ago."

They all slowly looked at one another, the news registering, processing, its impact gradually becoming clear.

Six broke the silence. "Then this is all of us."


	12. Chapter 12

There were supposed to be nine, John thought, looking across at their motely group. Now five was the most they would ever have. Already down to five, and the battle hadn't even started yet.

"Then now what?" Teresa asked. "We were trying to get all the Lorien together. This is all of us, we're all together. So, now what do we do?"

"Now we need a new plan." Six said. "Now we defeat the Mogs once and for all."

"We can't wipe out an entire race, Six." Patrick said smoothly. "Then we'd be as bad as the Mogadorians."

"Besides, it's impossible, considering our respective resources." Netoya said briskly. "What we can do, however, is destroy the contingent that has been stalking both us and this planet." Patrick nodded his agreement. "With them gone, we will then be safe to return to Lorien."

Six dipped her head once. "That's a start." She crossed the camp, sitting down and beginning to sort supplies into her pack. "Then we head further into New Mexico."

"Why New Mexico?" Tyler asked. "How do you know they'll be there?"

"We don't." Six said firmly. "But that was where this all started. So it might as well be where we end it too."

"That's where your ship crashed." Sam said faintly. "My dad was right."

"We'll leave at sunrise." Patrick said with finality. "But for now, we all need sleep."

He turned to Netoya, "I can get you a sleeping bag." She nodded, following him, and everyone gradually settled back into their places.

After a few minutes, Ella and Daniel drifted over to Netoya.

"Yes?" She asked, looking up at them.

"Hi." Ella said, crouching down. "I don't' want to intrude, but I was just wondering, have you ever visited us before tonight?"

Netoya stared steadily at her. "Why?"

"Well," Ella explained. "One of my legacies is that I can kind of sense when other people are around, and there was someone, non-human, who I've felt nearby a couple of times before. Was that you?"

Netoya was silent for a moment. "Yes." She said. Ella nodded slowly. "I watched you a few times before. I'm sorry if I alarmed you. That was not my intention."

Ella shook her head. "Not at all."

"I had been scouting around. I wanted to make sure that you were really Lorien before I approached you."

"That makes sense." Ella said, nodding again. "Thank you. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"It was nothing." Netoya said, inclining her head.

Ella stood back up again. "Goodnight," she said, and left Netoya behind, walking away with Daniel.

"Don't you think she's telling the truth?" Daniel asked once they were out of earshot.

"I think so . . ." Ella said slowly, looking straight ahead. "Something just seems off. I think she is, but there's also something else . . . I don't know, maybe I'm just imagining it. But also, it always seemed like the Lorien just appeared out of thin air. It would have made more sense if she was scouting around like she said she was, then I would have been able to feel her coming and going"

"You think she might not be who she says she is?"

"No, she is. I think." Ella glanced at him. "Why? Don't you remember her?"

Daniel shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't really remember any of them. I didn't know them before that day, and I never saw them again after that. But I trust you."

Ella smiled. "Good. I'm probably just paranoid, because I can't believe all that randomly sensing someone else actually turned out to be good."

"I'll keep a lookout anyway."

* * *

Netoya was glaring at him, but that seemed to be her fallback expression, so John ignored it. That was one thing he was pretty good at.

"Yeah, I'm still here." He said, cupping the phone closer.

She had this crazy idea that the Mogs could track them through all their technology – including cell phones. So now those all had to go. But John hadn't been about to let go of his, his last link to the normal world, without one last call.

And Netoya was begrudging him every second of it. All thirty six hundred of them. And counting. If Six didn't hate her so much, they would make a good pair.

"You can still talk, right?" John asked. "I'm not keeping you away from class?"

"Eh," Sarah said. Maybe he was imagining things, but he swore he could hear the smile in her voice. "I'd pass up listening to Mr. Eckleroad any day to talk to you. Especially if it's going to be the last time for a while."

"I'll call again as soon as I can, I promise." John insisted.

"I know." Sarah said. "What about you? How much longer until – Netoya? – breaks your phone?"

"A while yet." John said, grinning.

"I still can't believe that this other person you were searching for isn't even alive," Sarah said sadly. "It's so awful."

"Yeah." John agreed. He was sad. It was disappointing. But, it honestly didn't affect him that much. Of course he was sad. But he had never known Number Nine. What was the point in mourning?

"I guess I never really thought that Lorien could get sick." Sarah said. "Human sicknesses, just like us. Or me, I guess. You just seem," she made a strange noise, huffing through her teeth, "So much stronger, better, it just didn't seem like that could happen."

"Yeah," John said. "I'd never really thought of it before either. It was kind of a surprise."

Sarah was quiet for a moment. "How long do Lorien usually live?" she asked.

"Our lifespan's a bit longer than humans', on average." John answered. He'd asked Patrick the same question once. "But they're pretty much the same."

"So," Sarah started another question. "What do you do . . . when a Lorien dies?"

John thought for a second, kicking a pebble out of his path. "I don't really know." He answered. "When Henri died . . . well, we were kind of in the middle of a battle. I didn't have time to do anything. And, I guess I wouldn't really have known what to do even if I had."

"I'm sure that's what he would have wanted." Sarah said softly. "He died to keep you safe. He wouldn't have wanted you to put your life in danger, wasting time burying him, or something."

"Yeah." John agreed, even as an uncomfortable feeling stirred in his stomach.

"He's proud of you." Sarah assured him. "From, heaven, or wherever he is. He'd be proud."

"Thanks." John said. "I don't – I don't know where Lorien go when they die. I don't know if we have a heaven."

"You must have something," Sarah ventured. "Every culture has some kind of myth, a story of the underworld. On Earth, at least."

"Another thing I should have asked Henri, I guess." John said, attempting a laugh.

Sarah didn't join him. "What if," She said hesitantly. "I know this is getting a little morbid. But, we're two entirely different species John. We come from two different planets. What if . . . we don't go to the same place when we die?"

Life after death wasn't something John had ever given much consideration. But the thought of being separated from Sarah – permanently – that gave him a pause.

"That's," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "That's deep."

"I know," Sarah laughed a little. "It's just," He wished he could see her right now, wished they could really be talking about this instead of having to rely on the phone. "It's so hard being away from you now. I don't know what I'd do if we were ever really separated like that. It scares me."

"It'll be okay." John instantly assured her. "Even if we don't go to the same place. No matter what happens after we die, I'll find you." He'd never thought about it before, but he knew what he was saying was true. There was no question, if they were ever separated like that, he'd never stop searching until they were together.

"Really?" Sarah asked, her voice relaxing.

"Always.

* * *

"These Lorien were not raised."

Patrick turned his head. Netoya was walking alongside him, facing straight ahead.

"They were raised on Earth." Patrick said. "Under many difficulties."

"Yes." Netoya conceded tartly. "We've all had obstacles to overcome. That's no reason they should continue to be held back."

"They are moving forward now." Patrick pointed out. "Trying to take charge of their destiny."

"They're running wild, Patrick." Netoya snapped.

His eyes flickered over to her scowl. "It's unfortunate that so many cepan died. But we are lucky that so many of them have survived."

"They are not continuing the legacy of the Lorien." She insisted in a sharp voice. "That Six considers herself a warrior."

"We will all have to be warriors to fight the Mogadorians."

"That's not a Garde's place."

"We aren't on Lorien anymore." Patrick said stoically.

"But we're going back." Netoya retorted. "And we won't be able to start Lorien society again if they keep this up. John's still infatuated with some Human girl – I'm surprised you've let him live in that delusion for so long."

Patrick was silent for a second, looking at John smiling at the phone.

"He's going to have to forget about her, might as well be sooner rather than later." She crossed her arms.

"They are nearly adults, Netoya." Patrick said. "They make their own decisions."

"They aren't adults yet – and even if they were, he'd still have to leave her when we go to Lorien. But that's not nearly as troubling as Ella and Daniel."

Netoya's mouth twisted into a thin line as she glared at Daniel.

"They obviously believe they've imprinted on one another." She accused.

"They have never said any such thing." Patrick said calmly.

"They don't have to." Netoya insisted. "It's going on right under your nose, and I cannot believe that you've been allowing it. It's completely inappropriate."

"Or business is not in their private lives." Patrick said testily. "We are their protectors, not their match-makers."

"So you consider all of this to be in their best interest?" She demanded. "And Tyler –"

"Tyler is alive." Patrick said firmly. "That's more than can be said for Number Nine. Isn't it, Netoya?"

She was silent.

* * *

"It's weird." Sam said, looking around and absently scratching Bernie on the head.

"I thought you said you'd gotten used to it." Six said without looking up.

"No – not that." He corrected himself. "Just being here, in New Mexico." He was silent, contemplating the horizon. "I wonder if my dad ever saw this."

Six glanced up, then immediately back down again.

"Impossible to say."

"I know." Same said quietly, "But it's just – weird. Like I said." He took a seat on the ground next to her.

"I guess, like father like son." Six said abruptly.

Sam grinned. "Wow, where'd you pick up that Earth saying, alien?"

Six glared. "I was trying to be nice. I won't bother next time."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "But being like my dad isn't exactly a compliment – ran off, leaving family behind for some wild goose chase, and never came back."

"You don't believe that." Six stated, sitting up. "Then you wouldn't be here."

"I'm allowed to be bitter occasionally."

Six shrugged. "Your dad did what he thought was best for you at the time. Just like my parents did. In hindsight, maybe not the best decision, but it's the past. It's over. We can't have any regrets, especially not for things we didn't even do. We just live with the consequences."

"Do you remember any of this?" Sam asked abruptly. "Coming to Earth? Do you have any idea what we're going to find?"

Six shrugged. "Not exactly. We'll find out when we get there." She nodded at the motorcycle in front of her. "And with this, that'll be a lot sooner."

Sam looked at it, and grinned. "Nice. Bust something tells me Netoya isn't going to go for that."

Six's grin widened. "Hadn't even thought of that." She said, her tone suggesting the exact opposite.

Sam shook his head. "She's . . . she's interesting."

"Interesting," Six's mouth contorted. "Not the word I would have chosen. Don't tell me she doesn't get under your skin too."

"I dunno." Sam shrugged. "She pretty much just ignores me. Like, all the time. I don't think she's ever spoken to me."

Six snorted. "Elitism. Probably thinks she's better than humans."

Sam didn't reply immediately. "Guess you can't exactly blame her." He said lightly. "After all, I like hanging out with you guys better than with humans anyway."

"You aren't too bad for a human." Six agreed. "Toss me that wrench, will you?"


End file.
